


The Eggselent Experiment Chronicles

by Mattie_the_Pand0rk



Category: Undertail - Fandom, Undertale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Undertail (Undertale), Angst, Comfort, Consensual Tentacles, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Graphic Violence, Hurt, Hypnotism, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Monster sex, NSFW, Nudity, Oviposition, Personal Attention, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Reader is an anxious scardy cat, Smut, Somnophelia, Tentacle Kink, a chapter of graphic birthing, attempted rape in one chapter, blood description, consenual oviposition, drugging later on, dubcon, fem!reader - Freeform, laboratory fantasy, sugar daddy gaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 20:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16647404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mattie_the_Pand0rk/pseuds/Mattie_the_Pand0rk
Summary: You've got a dead-end job, cruddy apartment, crap pay. Need a change? Do some job searching. You just might find something very, very, interesting.





	1. Prologue/Job Search

**Author's Note:**

> My very first fic for the Undertail fandom that went live is now available here! Please enjoy! I am only updating now when I feel like it because Time and Energy are short with me at the moment. And recently it's only been a drabble here or there when I am able to update. Sorry bout that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You put a line out. Let's see what you reeled in....

Prologue

You weren’t sure what you were in for, but when you saw an ad on SnagAJob from Serif Labs and Industries that didn’t require a degree, you clicked on it so hard you thought your mouse was going to crack. For fifteen hundred **a week** with a benefits package, how the hell has no one found this job yet? The lucky employee only had to show up three days a week, that’s like… a freakin’ dream.

You got the phone call last week, and a pleasant lady asked some basic questions regarding your resume. She did call you out on your fancy wording, and said it wasn’t necessary for the job, but you still snatched an interview with the Head Scientist. She told you simply, “You make it with him, you got the job for sure.”

“One o’ clock PM Monday, in the lobby,” the lady stated, leaving no room for negotiation. One o’ clock sharp. Alright, you thought, makes sense. The job is high paying, and they’d want the strictest of schedules for those who get a job in such a place. You weren’t going to turn it down. In this economy, it was eat or be eaten (figuratively speaking.)

So, over the course of the week, you prepped for your interview with the Head Scientist. You reviewed typical questions online and recited them in the mirror, trying to get over that dreaded interview anxiety. You picked out the most professional outfit in your wardrobe, and made sure you had the whole day off at your current workplace, a little gas station just around the corner. The drive would be a bitch, you thought, but the pay makes it all worth it.

 

Chapter 1

Monday arrives, and the morning is filled with you showering and primping, followed by doing up your hair and pinning it back. Your makeup is on-point, with clean wing tipped eyeliner and just a little shimmer on your eyelids. You slip into your very professional, and rather sexy, pencil dress in a deep purple colour and look at the finished product in your door-hanging mirror. Hot Damn. You’ll be damned if anyone says no to this, you think as you snap in the air and turn to put your matching t-strap pumps on. Grabbing your coat, you go through in your head what you need with you. Keys, purse with cards, and your phone… Oh shit, you probably should have printed off your resume so you could reference it. Too late now. Hopefully your memory will serve you well.

The drive is awful, as expected, even with the shortcut, but you still make it on time with your piece of crap fourteen-year-old car. People drive like mad when the weather gets colder, and you’re **not** about to get into an incident today. You approach a rather fancy marble building, with a gated entrance. The guard is a skeleton monster in a blue hoodie, leaning back in its chair and almost appearing to snooze.

Monsters have been up on the surface for several years, so seeing one in a Monster-run facility is nothing surprising. But skeleton Monsters are rare, you’ve been told, so running into one guarding the labs is weird. A minute goes by. You have ten minutes until your interview… and the skeleton isn’t budging. You cough to get its attention. The Monster yawns… though you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have lungs. “oh hey,” **he** says. “you’re new here. what’s up?” He stays put, looking at you with two white lights in his eye sockets.

“Uh… Hi. I have an interview at one with the Head Scientist,” you explain awkwardly.

“oh cool. pops mentioned it earlier i think. go on through.” His eye glows, and the barrier glows and lifts up for you to drive through.

Oh, shit. This little skeleton is the Head Scientist’s **son**? “Where should I park?” You ask him shakily.

“lot ‘a’ should work fine,” he replies.

You utter a thank you and drive on through. The little roadway to Lot ‘A’ is pretty, lined with neatly trimmed trees and grass. The place to park is right next to the atrium entrance to the lobby. Perfect. You get out with about seven minutes to spare. Fashionably early. That will show that you’re eager for this opportunity… right? A quick saunter up the walkway and the ramp and you’re through the revolving glass door into a massive marble open concept entryway. The lobby is dead ahead. With a deep breath, you walk up to the dark wood desk, clutching your purse to keep you grounded as you float across the room to check in.

The person at the desk is a Monster as well… are there **any** Humans that work here? There have to be, right? They sport red hair in a simple bun, and a longer face. The skin on her face is blotchy with yellow and blue spots, fish scales in her hairline but it becomes more armor like in her forehead down. Like some strange mix between a lizard and a fish Monster. They look up at you with sky-blue eyes, cracking a smile.  “How can I help you?” she says sweetly.

“I have an interview at one with the Head Scientist, my name’s ________.” You take another deep breath. Now that you’re here, it seems a bit overwhelming. But at least the Monsters you’ve run into aren’t at all stuffy. You’d have expected them all to be a little more reserved with the way this building is designed.

“Oh! Perfect. Let me tell him you’re here and I’ll bring you back to meet him,” she bubbles.  
  
You stand awkwardly in front of the desk for a few moments, and she types something into her computer. Looking around, the ceilings are high, the stairs going to the second floor are sleek and industrial, and plants add a splash of colour to the otherwise white-grey walls. Out of the windows in the atrium, you can see a nice view of the city’s skyline, brushed with a little smog on top. Or are those clouds?

“He’s ready to talk with you! Follow me, please.” She stands, smoothing out her pink dress shirt and charcoal pants. She’s wearing flats, her walk a little stockier than you expected from your earlier view. Her tail nearly takes out your knees as you walk behind her. You back off just a little to give her room. “Oops, sorry about that.” She snorts. “I forgot to warn you about my tail.”

 

You climb the industrial stairs. Thankfully they’re diamond plate instead of steel grates, so your heels don’t get caught in holes. The hall is painted stark white, a black and steel hand rail on either side breaking up the bland walls. The doors are all metal as well. It’s all rather haunting in appearance. The click of your heels echo in the empty path, filling the awkward silence for a moment.

A couple Monsters, and even a Human, in lab coats pass in the other direction, greeting you with a small nod. Some are carrying boxes, others carry clipboards and are writing as they waddle to wherever they’re going.

The odd receptionist stops at a door with a brass name plate on it. It reads “ _Dr. Aster Serif_.” She knocks. “Please come in!” A pleasant voice calls from the other side. She opens the door and announces you as you both step through. Another deep breath, and a quick exhale when you’re called to attention.

The office is a huge contrast to the hallway. It’s almost… cozy. Warm red paint coats the walls, with wooden paneling under a chair moulding. The chairs in front of his desk are rich, made of leather and mahogany, and the floors are luxurious wood. There is a massive case behind the desk where the occupant is seated, filled to the brim with books and binders. The light in here is rustic and welcoming.

“Doctor, this is ________, your One o’ Clock interview.”

A pale, chubby Monster looks up from his paperwork, wearing a pair of round wire-framed glasses taped to the sides of his head. He has a sweet, gap-toothed smile when he sees you.  It seems… entertained. The cracks up and down his face are pitch black, just as his eye sockets appear to be. The upper part of his right eye droops as if the crack damaged it. The single purple iris sparkling in his left eye looks you over. He looks to be very humanoid– perhaps he’s a plump Lich Monster? Those types are almost unheard of, but if they’re skeletons working here…. “Oh, hello, ________. Welcome.” You note his slight English accent. Oh no, _he’s cute_.

He stands to shake your hand to properly greet you. He is **massive** , at least seven feet tall, and he’s pleasantly plump around the middle. When you shake his hand, you notice that he has a hole cut out of the middle of his palm. Absently, you wonder what sort of lab accident caused that. He motions to the chairs across from his desk. “Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Hot tea, perhaps?”

Your first thought is to politely refuse… but then you remember reading a review online while you were studying up on interview skills. “Yes, please. Thank you.” You sigh. It feels off, like you would be a bother, but you keep your head up. You **need** this to go well. You could say goodbye to that crappy car with only four of those checks, and the benefits package looks way too good to be true.

“Tea it is, then.” He nods to the girl at the door yet, and she promptly leaves to fetch what was requested. You both take a seat, and you sit on the edge of the classy wing-backed chair, despite it clearly being comfortable. Doctor Serif notices this right away, and calls you out on it kindly, and with a smile. “You can relax, _______. No need to be nervous. I know interviews can be rather overwhelming.” He soothes. Reluctantly, you slide back into the chair, careful not to squeak too much. You’re still clutching your purse with one hand like a security blanket, but it’s a start.

He looks down at his paperwork for a few more moments. Every anxiety runs through your head, and every checklist you could think of. Did you forget some information on your resume? Did he do some sort of background check already? Did he call your references and got mismatched information?

The girl from the desk comes back with a rustic wood tray with a white tea set complete with two teacups and saucers, sugar and crème, and a big pot of hot tea. Wow. It’s a weird luxury you’re not used to. The most you’re used to is foam cups for hot liquid and bags of tea in other workplaces.

He thanks his helper and her tail smacks the corner of the desk as she leaves, startling her and making her leap out of the room in embarrassment. Her boss laughs a little as she shuts the door. “Clumsy little thing. But honestly, she’s been very good with my filing system. Just like her mother.”

Doctor Serif turns his attention back to you as he pours the tea. “Crème? Sugar?”  
  
“Uh…” You want to say sugar, like two or three teaspoons of it, because tea really doesn’t taste as good without plenty of it. But you also don’t want to seem gross to him.  
  
He smirks knowingly, and adds two generous teaspoons into your cup. “It’s alright,” he reassures, handing you the cup with a smirk, “Don’t get shy on me now. You brushed off your nerves long enough to agree to this interview, might as well keep the streak going, hm?” You nod, and graciously accept the cup and sniff it subtly. It’s just a classic black tea. You take a sip. Damn, this has to be a pricey brand, yeah?

After a sip, and a little sigh, he begins the interview. “So, _______, tell me a little about yourself.”

“Well… I don’t have a fancy engineering degree or anything. I went to the local community college and just picked up a certification in office administration. I was in several clubs, such as Theatre and Art; I even joined the trivia club for a year. It gave me a lot of skills in teamwork and leadership. I was in charge of a few of the events from the Art Club and one major recruiting event in the Student Council.” You recite it perfectly, pronounce everything with a graceful diction that came from practicing for days. You even feel a little pride with how easily you rattled your little spiel off.

His expression seems hard to read, searching your face and almost seeming to read beyond the practiced words. You feel the nervous blush rising in your face. “Hm, I do remember that from your resume. Do you have anything to add to that?” He’s not at all snarky with you, he just seems a little disappointed.

That throws you off your A-game. You weren’t prepared for this. What did you miss? Even with all that studying on the inner workings of the Lab’s website, all of the interviews and news clips you watched on YouTube about him and the work that’s done here… and all that polishing you’d done on your abysmal resume, it still feels like it’s falling short. You feel your hands trembling a bit with the nerves building back. You take a sip of your tea. Well, shit. Nice knowing to what little dignity you had. You move to get up. This is definitely not going to work. You don’t feel like you deserve this spot, there’s no **way** you belong in a place like this, among the world’s top scientists. You’ve got an office administration certificate, and measly little club activities. This is far gone from any league you should be in.

“Where are you going, ________? You only just got here.” He seems… concerned now. It flusters you, and you can’t help but stand now, ready to bolt out that door and hide your face from the world behind a gallon of green tea ice cream.

“I don’t think I can do this—I’m sorry for wasting your time.” You bow your head and set your cup and saucer on the tray.  
  
When you make your first step toward the door, he stands and slides in front of you, holding his hand out to stop you. “Now, now. Calm down. I can see you are certainly not used to an interview like this. I must apologize if I am being too intense. I am simply looking for something specific, that is all.

“I’m not expecting that you add anything more onto what you’ve said in your resume, if that is what is distressing you. Perhaps I did not make myself clear when wording the question…. Please, give this a chance. I know you were Determined before, just stick this out for the whole hour, see how this goes. Hm?” He is pleading gently with you to keep going. This is a really, really weird interview. The interviewer wants you to stay even when you’re breaking face? But something about this strange Monster puts you at ease. Nodding, you let him herd you back to the chair before he seats himself. He insists you take a couple sips of your tea to calm you down.

It does settle your nerves. “Thank you, Doctor Serif.”

He smiles at you again. “You’re very welcome, __________.” Clearing his throat, he thinks for a moment while he rewords his question. “I would like to know more about you. Not just what you are on paper.”  
  
That… seems like a very broad subject. “Um, do you want to like, know my hobbies or something?”

“Yes, that,” he replies, seeming to waffle ideas around in his mind, “and perhaps your day-to-day activities.”  
  
“Day-to-day activities…?” you echo. “Well, I mean, I guess I’m just like anyone really. I get up, go to work from eight to five or six if my job wants me to stay over, then I go home, get something to eat, and maybe watch something on Netflix. It’s pretty boring, but I get tired after a day at the gas station.”

He nods, taking a sip of his tea. You do automatically, feeling a little more comfortable already with him.“Do you intend on staying at your current job if you were to be hired here?”

“Hell no,” you blurt out, but immediately clamp your mouth shut. Too late, you said it, and now the blush is burning your face.

He snorts. Then laughs. It seems to be a mix of shock with your words and a complete understanding. “No, that’s good, that’s good,” He finally sighs after a minute of laughter. You scratch the back of your head awkwardly. That was rather weird. He doesn’t seem upset that you just sort of cursed in front of him. Are all Monsters this chill? “Do you smoke, or drink alcohol at all?”

You quickly shake your head. “Well, I mean I sometimes drink on the weekends….” That’s a little strange for a question for a job interview. But you shrug it off. No big deal, right? Some workplaces don’t want their employees smoking because it distracts the workers. And alcoholism can be a problem too.

“That’s completely fine. It’s good that you abstain from cigarettes. Nasty habit, it is.” Another sip, with a thought. “Though, I mean no offense if you know someone that does.”

“None taken, it’s kinda gross. I mean, my mom does it sometimes but you know like, older generations kinda stick with what they know sometimes.” You startle, realizing some Monsters could be older than even your grandparents. “Um, not that there’s anything wrong with that,” you quickly add.  
  
“I will be the first to agree that some older generations are indeed stuck in their ways,” he chuckles. “Do you have roommates? Pets?”

“Mm, no, I live by myself and I have a cat. His name is Ash, and he’s about seven years old now.”

“Oh, I absolutely adore cats!” He gushes. “I have a cat myself, a long-haired calico named Princess. Do you know what sort of cat Ash is?”

“Um… I’m not too sure. He might be a Maine Coon mixed with something else. He’s got light grey fur. That’s all I know, really. He does have pretty blue eyes, though.”

“He sounds like a darling pet.” The interview is feeling more like people trying to be friends than you trying to get a job. He turns a bit more serious now, though.

“Do you have a primary care doctor?” Doctor Serif adjusts in his seat and waits for your answer calmly, leaning forward to offer you more tea. You accept after a slight hesitation. This is getting weirder again.

“May… I ask why you would need to know?”

“Well, the health of potential employees concerns me. I need to know that each of my colleagues will be in top condition. Working in the Labs has its dangers, and coming in tired or overworked will not suffice for my standards.”

“Ah, I gotcha. Yes, I have a doctor. I don’t go to him regularly though, because I don’t get sick a lot and visits are expensive.”

He nods, certainly in thought once again. With a long sip of tea, he leans forward and prepares to say something. “These next questions are going to get very personal, if you feel uncomfortable, then you should not feel pressured to answer them right away. Alright?” He says this very gently, as if he’s afraid you’d try to dart out the door again.  
  
You swallow hard, and nod. Nothing to lose, really. You wonder if other people who have gotten this far have had the same questions to answer. “Hit me.”

With a cautious smile, he continues. “What are your living conditions currently like? I have seen your address, but I would like to know the condition of the apartment you’re staying at.”

 **It’s a piece of crap** , you think to yourself. “Oh… you know. It’s just a start up apartment.” You laugh it off awkwardly. You know it’s sort of a lie. There’s cracks in the walls, the sinks lose pressure, the garbage disposal breaks down a lot… there’s an awful draft in the living room and your bedroom, too.

He sees right through the blasé comment, and you can see it in his face. You sink like a puppy in trouble with the owner. “A start up apartment isn’t something you live in for three years.” He states matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, but it’s close to where I work and it’s really what I could afford given my pay.” Perfectly valid excuses. Fuck, if he saw your car it would be the embarrassment of an age.

“That’s completely understandable,” he replies simply. “What about your vehicle situation? Do you take public transportation, or do you commute with a private vehicle?”

It’s like he read your damn mind. “Um. Also junky, and old, but it gets me around. I’ve had it since I graduated high school; it’s been pretty reliable other than having to get new shocks and rims with wheels and stuff put on it to keep it going.”  
  
He seems a little dissatisfied, as if that won’t do at all for his ‘standards.’ Yep, you knew it. Time to pack it up, this isn’t going to work. Who knows when that car will break down and make you late for work?

“Would you be willing to allow a detailed background check and thorough physical for a job opportunity? How about moving closer to your place of work?”

Now those are questions you can definitely answer. It brings you back from your impending breakdown again. You sigh in relief. “I would definitely move out of there in a heartbeat, especially if it meant being closer to work. Even though it’s around the corner, I’m overdue for a change. As for background checks and physicals, I’m fine with both. I’ve done a few summer jobs to save up money, and they all usually required something. Nothing new to that.”

Finally, he nods and smiles… is that satisfaction? “Well, ___________, I think I have all the information I need now.” After taking a drink from his cup, he grins and opens a drawer at his desk. He pulls a sizable stack of forms and papers. “I… would like to offer you the position you’ve applied for. If you would still like it, that is.”  
  
You glance at the clock. It’s only been a half an hour. “Um… What…?” You’re confused. How did you get it so easily? There has to be a catch somewhere.  
  
His dorky grin grows. “I would like to offer you the position you’ve applied for, with some stipulations of course.”  
  
“I got the job?”

A nod, and a snort, pushing the papers toward you a little more. “If you want it, yes.”

You can’t help but squeal. You just upgraded from a gas station clerk to living in the high life—so you think. Anything has to be better than customers yelling at you for the prices of fuel right? “Yes! Holy crap, yes! Thank you so much, Doctor Serif!”

“Thank you, ________. Please read over these forms carefully though. This has your job description and contract. I assure you there is no ‘fine prints’ or quid pro quos or the like. Everything in here is straight forward. I don’t play the technicality game.”

You nod, and take the papers to start looking them over. He gives you a clipboard to help you flip through the pages.

Right away you open the cover letter to the Job Description. Your stomach drops. Oh.

It reads:

_Live Test Subjects, SOUL Integrates, and Incubators._

“Uh, Doctor?”  
  
“Yes, __________?”

“Which of these categories will **I** be in?”

“All of them,” He answers simply, pouring you both more drink from the pot.

 

_**OH.** _

 

_That explains why the position hasn’t been taken yet, at least._


	2. Hungry to Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You got the job... and you're just starving to begin.

You hammered him with questions for the next twenty minutes, leaving you only 10 minutes to really make the decision. You stared hard at the papers in your hands. Everything he told you was right there in the contract, just as he said. It was simple. You’d show up to work in comfortable clothing, Doctor Serif would be the sole experimenter and data collector, and his carefully selected team would help crunch numbers and examine any physical observations that he would gather through second-hand means. The only one who would ever touch you or look at you physically would be him, unless it was an emergency.

There was a clause that had you promise to cease any birth control, and only necessary medications were to be taken such as anti-depressants and diabetic medication. You also had to have bi-monthly physicals under his supervision to ensure your health is at its peak, whether that be with your own personal doctor or with him. You’d have to disclose any and all medications with him, and any changes to your daily routine. Any sick days you needed, or time off, would be granted with no penalty to you, but you would receive house calls from him should you claim illness or injury.

If you were too uncomfortable with anything he would be doing, it says on paper that negotiations are open.

Under all that was a small truth-telling article, with the consequences up to and including termination of the contract.

Then, there was a privacy section. Your information is protected by not only the laws of the land, but also his very own system. It was very restricted, covered all the bases—it seems none of your information would ever leave the lab unless you were in trouble with the Feds or something.

He added on a little hand-written note you’d have to sign off on at the end of the agreement. You would receive a bonus immediately upon signing, a little stipend to help you get startup costs out of the way. The labs—he–would provide you with better housing closer and new transportation to give you reliable means to not only get to and from work, but also keep you safer.

“There’s still some tension between Humans and Monsters politically. Some would venture to say it bleeds into ‘morality’ as well,” he explained when you questioned him about that little bit.

The perks were definitely one hell of a trade off for some of your body autonomy. A new place to live, a new car, enough money to pay off your college debt and still have a crap ton left over for savings? Is it really worth risking your body for? You stared at him while you thought about this hard.

The whole week leading up to your start date the following Monday was stressful. Doctor Serif insisted on going with you to trade your car in to help with the costs of a new vehicle when you mentioned in passing you had no one to really help you pick a good one out. There went Tuesday. Then, you had to box everything up. The Head Scientist paid to break your lease, which still had at least seven months left on it. It didn’t seem to bother the landlord, he had dollar signs in his eyes when you signed the papers that you’d be out by Thursday, which was only the next day. Thankfully, the moving company was **also** paid for by the strange Monster and his workplace. Your head spun when you first stepped into the new place uptown, just minutes from the labs. It was so classy and new, and even a bit bigger than your first apartment. It had a stunning view of the skyline as it’s bigger windows in the living room faced downtown.

Your new car was just that—brand freakin’ new. All the best tech in it, too. BlueTooth, back up camera, auto drive capabilities, heated seats for the cold season, everything. It’s like you’re a princess, without the crown, and you have to get poked and prodded at three times weekly. But holy shit this was better than anything you could have hoped for when you signed those papers.

Ash seemed to adjust pretty quickly too, in fact. He made himself home almost immediately, perching and lounging in the big windowsill looking out to the city as he purred and let his tail sway in satisfaction.

Finally, Friday. You had told your old boss earlier in the week that you didn’t really have time to put in your two weeks, but they were surprisingly understanding. You didn’t have to come in anymore there. That was good. So, you had a whole weekend to get settled into your new place. You decided to treat yourself to some takeout to celebrate.

Unfortunately for you, the weekend went fast. You only stopped unpacking to eat and feed Ash, and call your friends that were still back out East to tell them that you found a better job and hopefully you could visit them soon.

 

Monday… You had a feeling of dread before last night, but it doesn’t compare to now. You are absolutely terrified. You wear what you were told to—something comfortable and loose-fitted. You were given instructions that you were not to eat anything after Midnight the night before, so you couldn’t even sneak in the leftover eggroll in your fridge. Even though it was singing to you. You hoped this wasn’t going to be every other day.

You arrive at the labs, and go through the atrium into the lobby. The same secretary is there at the desk. When she sees you, she stands up. “Oh! You’re here! Shoot, I forgot to tell you, you could have gone in the employee entrance this time. That’s okay, I’ll make sure you have your badge for Wednesday at the end of the day, anyway. Come on, Doctor Serif is waiting for you in his office.”

Doctor Serif is indeed at his desk, sipping more tea and flipping through a file folder, rubbing his temples in frustration. He has a lot of weird, floating hands going… that must be one of those Monster abilities you’ve heard about. He notices you and waves you in, the secretary leaving you two alone. “Please, have a seat, _______.” You do as told, immediately sitting back into the leather chair. The hands disappear into thin air.

“I was just looking over your medical records. They are simply put… all over the place. The Doctor you went to previously—have you been to him recently? I seem to be missing at least two years of accounts here.” He seems rather annoyed. Not at you, clearly, but generally.

“I did say it has been a while… Didn’t realize that it was that long,” you mutter. “Um. Is that a problem? I can schedule something with him for later in the week if that would help.”

“No, no, that won’t do. Usually it takes a while to schedule with a primary care physician, but I have some other issues with what I do have besides missing years of files. It looks like he was charging your insurance for visits you never had. I simply can’t allow you to continue seeing that physician, seeing that he could also be falsifying your records in other ways—and I have to report him to the authorities for fraud.” He shakes his head and pulls his glasses off his face, a little popping sound coming from the tape as it’s peeled off his temples. “This is not your fault. This happens every so often when I hire Humans. But because of this situation, I will have to offer a couple options to make up for this.”

You shift in your seat. Shit, you just thought that the office visits were just that expensive. He’s been more or less stealing from you for the eight years you’ve seen this one. “Okay… what are the options then?”

“I can skip the tour and quick examination for today and do it Wednesday to send you to one of our partner physicians across town for a full physical exam, **or** I could give you the tour here, and after do your physical examination myself. It will be a longer day if you go there, but I will be more than happy to accommodate you either way.”   
  
You groan. You haven’t eaten anything all morning, and now you’re in for a longer day. Being here would be a shorter time, that means food sooner… “I’ll just let you do it I guess.” Your stomach growls, and you hug yourself around the middle.   
  
“I promise to feed you after the examination,” he chuckles nervously. “I know how it feels to have to fast.” He pokes his belly and snorts, jibing himself about his weight. You can’t help but smile a little. Your boss is a dork. “Well, shall we crack on then? Plenty to see before I bring you down to my private laboratory.” You nod, definitely nervous at the prospect of your boss examining you so closely.

He shows you through the halls, explaining each floor of the building as you go up the flights. There are floors of engineering laboratories, and some that deal in SOUL technology (whatever that is), and the top floor is reserved for aerospace and astronomy invention. He says his son, Sans, is the head of that department on top of being one of the guards at the gate. When you descend toward the lower floors, he mentions that there are biology and chemical laboratories dedicated to medical advancements and material and alloy creation. This place is all over every science imaginable, and even in some that you’ve never even heard of. Finally, before you descend again, you are shown the employee lounge. It is definitely a lounge and not just a break room. It’s very cozy in here, much like his office.

And then, you go into the basement with him, like some soon-to-be victim of Hannibal Lecter. Except Lecter is a dorky seven foot tall Monster with a gimpy eye and a gap-toothed smile. The basement hallways are just as bright and stark as the ones above ground. About thirty of your paces from the stairwell, you are stopped at a metal door. He pulls out a set of keys from his pocket. The lanyard is decorated with rainbow hearts. The Doctor graduates from a normal dork to a super nerd.

He’s quick to herd you inside. “Welcome to my private laboratory. This is where we will be working. I keep it locked, so you will have to wait in the employee lounge until I come and get you. I hope that is okay with you?”

“Sure. I don’t see a problem with that.”

“You are very agreeable,” he notes absently. “That’s good. It will make things much, much easier for the both of us.” He takes his lab coat from the hook on the wall next to the door, and as he shrugs it on and straightens his bow tie out. With a gentle smile, he invites you to sit on the examination table in the center of the room.

You know you should feel uncomfortable with those words, but for some reason with him they don’t seem creepy at all. You climb onto the examination table, and look around in these few quiet moments. The lab itself is tiled white from top to bottom. Very surgical. There are cabinets made of metal for supplies, a counter with a sink, an operating light above you. The table’s cushion is sectioned off, so it can be adjusted. It looks like a ramped-up doctor’s office and an operating room more or less. Plus some weird machines lining the walls.

His back is turned to you as he pulls tools and such from his supplies and places them neatly on a little cart for his convenience. You can feel your heart beating against your chest nervously. You were not mentally prepared to dive right into a physical exam the first day. You see cotton, some metal, some glass. Your stomach tightens, and you stop breathing for a second. Did you see needles on that tray? Shit—you didn’t think about him using needles. You’re a lab rat, of course he’s going to use needles.

When he turns toward you with the cart in tow, he immediately takes note of your stress. He moves the cart to the side, and then rests his fingertips on your hands… When did you start death-gripping the table? He is very close to your face now, and you can see the fine textures of his skin. Or is it bone? And his eyes, you can’t tell if they’re skeletal sockets or sclera, they’re so inky. New information is making your head swim. “Take it easy, _________. Breathe. I’m not going to hurt you. Pain is not going to be in any part of your job description. Is that understood?” His voice is just above a murmur, and warm to soothe you.

You find the feeling in your head coming back enough to nod weakly. When did you go numb? Slowly, you let go of the table. But your hands then curl into tight fists. Your masochistic eyes wander to your left where he set the cart, but he grabs your attention in front of you with a gentle hand to your chin. “Hey, now. You don’t need to look. This is only a comprehensive examination. You’ve had them before, haven’t you?”

Your head is foggy now, vision going blurry. Have you ever had a “comprehensive” exam to his standard before? Does that standard **have** to include needles? Your bottom lip trembles with anxiety. “I-I don’t know now,” you weep pathetically, your butt inching away from the offending cart.

Doctor Serif hushes you, much like a father would calm his child. “Deep breaths, it’s okay to be afraid. It’s a completely normal response to being looked over so intimately. Tell me why your afraid, ___________. I will help you through whatever is triggering this anxiety in you.” He reaches down to one of the shelves under the table and pulls up a box of tissues. Oh, your nose is running now. You didn’t even know you were crying that much. Taking one of the tissues to blot away the grossness, you try to inhale but it comes out ragged and makes you hiccup. You try again. Better, but still not right. And again. The kind scientist encourages you on, trying to get you to calm down from another meltdown.

It takes a few minutes, but finally you manage to string together words that resemble a sentence. You explain that you have a paralyzing fear of needles and you can’t stand the sight of blood. Even just the idea of being poked at is terrifying you now. With an understanding nod, and a little smile, he tells you that he has ways of helping people through their fears of such things. Apparently he’s done this before with other subjects. Reluctantly, you agree to let him start the exam. The faster he finishes this, the faster you will get to eat, he reminds you. What a tantalizing carrot to get you to comply….

The physical starts off small. He records your blood pressure (which is still significantly high because of your stress), your heart rate, breathing, reflex. Just like in a regular doctor’s office, you tell yourself. You can’t help but notice his unusual cologne when he tells you to inhale deeply. It fills your head, moving the anxiety cloud from your head and replacing it with warm cotton with a whiff of it. It’s lavender… and something else. Something smokey, like incense. The scent stokes comfortable memories of lit candles and a rain storm when you first moved to the city, two-thousand miles from where you once called ‘home.’ You slouch a little with the memory, and Doctor Serif smiles. “See, not so bad, right? Progress,” he says in praise, following it up with instructions to lie back on the table. You do as told in your new haze, but the anxiety still picks at the back of your mind.

A splash of colour on the ceiling catches your attention. You focus on that for a moment to find that the tiles above the table are a looping visual of glimmering stars. A little wave of calm washes over you as you feel almost pulled in by the picture. “I see you’ve found the visual quite alluring,” Doctor Serif mutters happily. “That’s good—these visuals will help in later experiments I intend to carry out with you.” Your eyes roll over to look at him, your head remaining still. He’s standing next to you now, fiddling with some of the items on the cart. You don’t dare to look. Partially it’s due to the fact you know very well what’s on that tray, partially due to not knowing what he’s getting at. “It’s okay, ________. It won’t skew any results later if you want to continue to distract yourself with the screen. I won’t stop you. The only thing I **do** want you to do is relax. You can do that, can’t you?” He smiles down at you for a moment before turning his attention to his work station again.   
  
Hm… might as well find some sort of distraction from the inevitable. You signed up for this, and you can’t exactly back out now without a backup plan anyway. With a heavy sigh, you fix your eyes on the screen. The way the stars move makes you feel like you’re floating a little, and your mind spins from the sensation.   
  
The lab is spookily silent. There’s not even a rumble from ventilation to be heard. Even the sounds of the tools that the Doctor is fumbling with are barely audible. You faintly hear him humming a small tune to himself, and your own breath. For the walls being empty, it sure feels more like an anechoic chamber with this lack of reverberation.

Your train of thought is broken when you feel him move your arm around a little, and hear rubber. He’s wearing gloves, and tying a tourniquet above your elbow. Oh stars oh shit oh fuck… “You don’t have to look, dear. Keep looking at the screen, listen to my voice. I’ll talk you through this. You’re going to be just fine.” You’re quick to look away, shutting your eyes tightly so you can’t even see the peripheral.

“________?”

You hum in response.

“Take a deep breath and shrug your shoulders for me,” he sighs. You do as told. He instructs you to exhale and drop your shoulders, and you follow along. He tells you to do that three more times, and before you know it, you’re calmer.  “Good. Now, I am going to count down from ten. When I say one, it will be all over. All I want you to do is breathe. Starting now from _ten…_.” You whimper, hearing glass and something pop open. “ _…Nine_.” You suck in shakily. He’s going to do it. He’s about to do it.  
“… _Eight._ ” He grips your arm lightly, thumb pressing into your skin gently. You exhale in a huff, and suck in again. “… _Seven._ ” You’re waiting for the prick. Any second now.

Thirty seconds pass. A minute. he’s down to ‘two.’ now. You’re still waiting for the sting of the needle, the feeling of it wiggling into your vein. “aaaand _one._ Very well done, __________. All finished with the needles for now.” Wait—what?

You snap your eyes open and look to make sure he wasn’t joking with you. It’s unbelievable. He’s taking the tourniquet off of your arm, and there’s a bandage in the crook of your elbow. “What the…” You feel a little silly for acting like you did now. You narrow your eyes at him. How did he do that?

“Is something wrong? Are you feeling any bruising?” He asks with genuine concern while you stare at him.   
  
No, you say, but you’re really wondering how he managed to get away with getting what he needed from you without you feeling it. The Doctor smirks proudly as you sit up. “Years of practice.” he claims. “You don’t need to worry about it now, dear. If you’re ready to move onto the next thing, say ‘ah’ for me.” Taken aback, you reluctantly do as told. He attacks your tongue with a cotton swab, and you resist with a gag and a bite to the stick. “No, no, don’t bite this. I need to take all the cultures I can to ensure your health. Besides, cotton is a nasty thing to swallow,” he snorts. “Alright, just one more thing before we take a break.”   
  
He takes a moment to adjust the table and add some bars that look oddly like foot rests. This table looks like something you’ve seen before. Oh wait. OH.

“Um, D-Doctor Serif, is this really **necessary**? I get that you’d need blood samples and vitals and yeah, okay, yeah the cheek and tongue swab thing but—but this?” You automatically cross your legs and bury your hands in between in shock and embarrassment.

“It is part of the requirement, I’m afraid,” the scientist drawls, a frown tugging the corner of his mouth down a little. “Part of your job description is candidacy for Incubation, and that requires a thorough check that your reproductive tissues are all in condition for that. You do have the option to have my female assistant in here, if that would help make this more comfortable for you.”   
  
Having **more** people in here? How would that make you feel comfortable?! You shift. He hasn’t hurt you at all yet, and he’s given you no bad vibes. Still though. Having your boss poke around between your legs isn’t exactly an ideal situation no matter what. You grumble dejectedly. “No—I’d rather not, thanks.”   
  
“Alright, then. I take it you’ve done this sort of thing before…” He hands you a wrap. “I’ll turn away for you to take your shoes, bottoms and panties off. Just tell me when you’re ready after you’re on the table again.” He does as he says, giving you the privacy to hop down, move around to the other side of the table and change, then hop back up. You sigh. You thought the last of your dignity left during the interview. Turns out the shreds were hanging on until this moment.

Doctor Serif turns back around. “Good, lay back, try to relax. Just like with the needles, this should not hurt at all. Tell me immediately if I do something painful to you.” You nod nervously, wringing your hands together, you clamp your eyes shut again and get into position.

Muted metal clinking, a chair rolling up, the Doctor sitting down. Behind your eyelids you see the operating light turn on. You feel his hand near your pussy, and you freeze. _Fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck. You didn’t shave, you probably smell gross because you didn’t shower this morning like a damn idiot and this just feels so. Mcfreakin’…_ _ **wrong**_ _._

His other hand rests on your lower belly. “Just a little pressure,” he warns before you feel his finger slide inside you. You yelp. He asks if it’s painful, you can only shake your head no. Heat floods your face as he presses down on your pelvis, his finger working upward.

Your chest is heaving. there’s a weird pressure in your body, and it’s shuddering up and down your spine. And then his fingertip strikes something inside you, something you didn’t really realize could be touched so easily. A quake of pleasure jolts your whole body, and you seize and cry out, tears pricking your eyes. **Your G-Spot.**

Carefully, he withdraws his hand and blinks at you in pure shock. “Oh, dear. That was not what I was expecting at all—are you alright?” You cover your face with your hands, the blush turning your skin into a cherry from your face down past your neck and the tears now dripping down your cheeks. You can’t even bring yourself to utter a response, just whimpers and sniffles. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, ___________. It is a completely normal response to stimulation. It has nothing to do with anything but your basic biology, and as a scientist I respect that it is simply that: a biological response and nothing more.” His words should be reassuring, but somehow it just makes the situation worse. You refuse to drop your hands. You know you’re a mess.   
  
You hear rubber gloves snapping, and bare hands tugging on yours. “Come now, there’s no need to be shy. This is more common than it seems, believe me.” He manages to pry your hands from your face. You’re still beet red, tears of shame in your eyes. The kind Monster looks at you calmly, nothing but concern showing in his good eye. He is constantly reassuring you, telling you that this is just biology and science and there is nothing to worry. “I will not spin this into a later anecdote, as I mentioned before. What happens in this laboratory with you, stays here.”

After several more moments of trying to calm your tits, you finally are ready enough to finish this shit up. Maybe your mood wouldn’t have been so bad if you hadn’t had to fast. Doctor Serif gloves up again and then moves between your legs again. “I know this is difficult, but please open your legs just a little wider for me,” he says gently.

Cold metal touches you, and a yelp escapes your lips. When he asks, you explain, and he promptly apologizes. He realizes that he forgot to turn on the warming plate it was resting on. You feel the swabs inside of you, and squirm in response.

The exam finishes quickly, and he packages all of the samples up neatly in a box. “Alright, will you stay here while I take these across the hall to the diagnostics room?” You nod, sitting up and pressing your legs together. You hope that’s all he was going to do today given the circumstances. This is a hell of a lot to deal with. Doctor Serif leaves, and you hear the door lock behind him. That gives you a few minutes to change back into your clothes.

When he returns, you’re putting on your shoes again. He has a shy smile on his face. “Shall we break for lunch?”

Your stomach roars in agreement to that.


	3. Breathe In, Breathe Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A soothing interlude is all we need. No really, we all need that.

Thankfully nothing seemed too weird after the first physical Monday. After he was about to release you for the day, the Doctor said that you should certainly take time to find a fitness center to join and use time to learn to cook better meals for yourself other than boxed macaroni and cheese and canned soups. Something about being more physically ready for the coming months. Thankfully, you could afford it now both in time and money, so you decided to do a little grocery shopping on Tuesday, your first day off. You bought lots of veggies and fruits that you thought you’d like, and some meat—real meat that you’d have to cook yourself and not already prepared. You’d saved so many recipes on your Pintrest that it became a sort of “life goals” blog, and finally you had the opportunity to try them out. The first recipe was a wholesome chicken and dumplings recipe that you were dying to eat. It was okay, but the dumplings were still doughy. Instead of going to a gym, you decided to just go for a walk and check out the area. You felt a little out of place being in such a new, rich neighborhood. But you couldn’t complain. There was never any sound of gunfire, and the trees lining the sidewalk were pretty as they were changing colours with the season. Yeah, you could get used to this.

Wednesday, you were damn glad you took that walk and actually got a little exercise. Your boss put you through the ringer when he made you take a physical endurance test. It gave you bad flashbacks to your days in elementary school with the Pacer Test. “Uh… We’ll work on it,” he said when you asked what your results were. Well fuck. During lunch you barraged him with questions on why you would need better endurance and what he has in store. He reassured you that it was “prudent that you maintain a peak,” and “that you unfortunately aren’t allowed to know everything that he plans to do yet.”

Friday was a breeze in comparison, but man you were tired. It exhausted your mind and you were thankful when he ended the questionnaires and puzzle exercises. If you had to attempt to solve one more Sudoku in under five minutes you were going to scream. When you got home, you had a call from your bank. They apparently were freaking out about the sudden deposit of $1700 into your checking. You had to call the 24-hour line to approve it and explain your new job at the labs was giving you that much.

The weekend came to a close with a lot more drama. Ash found an open box of holiday decorations and decided to eat half of it. You spent all Saturday at the vet with him instead of unpacking so you could chill Sunday. You had to do your unpacking Sunday, which took all day, and you still weren’t even close to being done. You wondered how you managed to pack so much crap into one tiny starter apartment, and thought about just tossing some of the shit into the dumpster. You told yourself you’d worry about that next weekend.

 

You show up Monday, a little ragged from the lack of sleep. Doctor Serif finds you catching a nap in the employee lounge while you wait for him. You’re startled awake in the middle of a light dream about sleeping in your own bed. You rub your eyes as they meet his. You apologize for sleeping.

“That’s all right, ___________. Let’s get started, shall we?”

You nod, and follow him down to the lab. You take your place with a little struggle. “So, ________. Tell me what is going on. Did something happen to make you lose sleep over the weekend?” His back is turned to you, but you feel he is genuinely wondering. You’re fidgeting nervously, knowing he told you to be more conscious about your health. Are you in trouble for not following his orders? Are you in even more trouble for napping on the clock? The pause makes him turn his face to you a little, but he keeps his back toward you while he messes with something on the counter. You hear light acoustic music playing. Weird… Doctor Serif turns around, the cart in tow with a small device and some other things you can’t quite make out. You squirm a little more. Your gut tells you to be worried. Your head says you shouldn’t be scared. “Don’t be shy, dear. I’m not angry with you. As I said before: I am concerned for the health of all who are here at the lab.”   
“It was just a long weekend. I was trying to unpack and Ash found the holiday stuff. He ate half a box of tinsel and glitter before I got to him and I spent all Saturday at the vet getting his stomach pumped.” As you’re explaining, he is placing patches on your face at your temples and forehead, and also on your chest and stomach.

“Is Ash alright?” he asks gently, clipping an oxygen monitor to your index finger.

“He’s fine. He’s a little grouchy and won’t go near me right now, but he’s eating and everything. Dunno what got into him. He never did that before.” You pause, looking at the thing on your hand. It’s giving you flashbacks of when you were in the hospital for your tonsillectomy. Shuddering, you bring your attention back to the scientist about to initiate the first experiment for the day.

“It sounds very stressful nonetheless,” he coos as he adjusts the table to bring up the back to an easy reclining position. He encourages you to scoot back so your feet aren’t dangling over the side. You do so… a little reluctantly. Your mind is starting to race even though he hasn’t even started. “It is good that I chose to perform this series of experiments today.”

He could be doing some sort of weird Pavlovian thing with electricity. Or these patches could have some sort of weird drug in them. Or maybe he hasn’t drugged you yet but he wants to use you as a drug tester and these patches monitor the results or something. Oh fuck, fuck. This is not good. It can’t be good. What did he choose to do today with you? You’re dying to know but also terrified.

You’re cut off with a gentle shush.

A single finger in front of you grabs your attention. He tells you in a sweet, soft voice that you are safe, that you can relax. It’s weird—but you believe him and all of your worries start to just sort of fall off.

Breathe deeply in.

Hold.

Slowly Exhale. You notice you feel a little tingly.

What’s happening?

The soft music plays, and it almost feels like it wraps around your head as a rhythm of breathing and his talking infects your mind. It takes your thoughts and even your consciousness to a very unfamiliar but somehow soothing void. You breathe deeper with every breath, your spine relaxing as a hand rests between your shoulder blades. He’s guiding you down onto your back, the apparent stress in your muscles slipping away each moment willingly. With each sigh you make, each of your limbs succumb to this weird spell you seem to be falling under. The visual on the ceiling draws you in, and the room seems to spin just a little. Or is that your mind swimming? You feel a little confused, but you’re so tired you almost don’t care anymore.

Except… you wonder what the Doctor is trying to accomplish with this. The thought keeps circling back to you every once in a while as you fight against this extra blanket of sleepiness. Your whole body feels like it’s being replaced with cotton.

He’s still talking to you sweetly, lending words of encouragement and praise for doing this. His honeyed voice washing over you in waves of an alien bliss. With this cloying feeling, you absently wonder once again if the patches had something to help along this witchcraft. But wait—the feeling started in your feet, you remember, not where the patches are. How the hell are you this calm? You feel like you should be fighting it, but every time  you push against his words, they drive you down that much further.

What’s the point of this?

Breathe deeply, you’re reminded. He asks you to focus your breathing, and concentrate.

Hold your breath, he says.

Slowly exhale.

You’re so sleepy, you’re having a hard time keeping your eyes open at this point.

If this isn’t drugs how in hell is he doing this? **Why** are you listening to him so easily?

Your thoughts are so passive now, you can’t even worry or freak out normally. You lay there, near-catatonic.

“___________?”

You hum to respond, unable to find your mouth to speak openly.

“I am going to now count down to one. When I say ‘one,’ I will touch your forehead and you will close your tired, heavy eyes. Ready?”

Another hum. You find yourself dying to be allowed to close your eyes. Were you really this tired? Really—you fell asleep in the employee lounge. Apparently you are in fact that sleepy.

The countdown begins.

Ten. Still breathing deep.

Nine.

Eight. Eyes becoming heavier still. Closing very slowly.

Seven.

Six.

Five. So sleepy. So close; you need this.

Four.

Three.

Two. Deep breath in–

One. –And out.

A tap on your forehead unleashes a flood of cotton through your whole body.

You sleep.

Swimming in blackness, as if asleep, but you hear the Doctor’s voice as if you were awake and looking right at him. “Good girl,” he says. “This is working much better than I expected for you. You must be **exhausted.** ”

You want to answer yes, but your physical body is numb and distant from your mind. You want to throw a trillion questions about why he’s doing this, why this is important to his research, why any of this is really necessary. But you can’t.

You can’t even panic.

You realize it’s not just your mind and body connection that feels distant to you. Everything but his voice is. He seems to want to talk with you… but how is that gonna work? You’re more or less incapacitated now. Mentally, you huff in frustration with this event. You’re told to take another breath to calm down a bit more.

“What you are experiencing at this moment is the phenomenon known as ‘hypnosis.’ I have been studying this technique for a very long time in both Humans and Monsters. This is meant to relax you, and keep your mind open in conversation as you rest. My hope is that this will be a good tool for future use with you.

“The power of suggestion is rather fascinating to me. It exploits the needs of intimacy for some, reassurance for others, and fantasy for the rest who look to hypnotism. Hypnotism—when done in a secure setting—provides an extra layer of safety to some who would otherwise find it difficult to confide in those who take care of them.

“I know you are having difficulty trusting me, _____________.”

Well, yeah? Why would you trust someone who is experimenting on you three days a week? You’re getting paid for this but still. This doesn’t make any sense. Why does this even matter? The panic is starting to return in the back of your mind, but it’s like when you know you should feel pain but you’re shot up with Novocaine.

You’re burning to ask him why he’s doing all of this. It seems silly. And maybe a little pointless.

“Easy, ____________. Relax. I understand _why_ you don’t trust me. All I can—and will—do is reassure you, show you that my intentions are all well-meaning. I am doing this today to begin dedicating your mental health regimen, and your stamina examination and training to Mondays. This will be the designated “checkup day” for you, while Wednesdays and Fridays will be the Primary Experiments for our first three months together. If you understand, please hum a little for me.”

You can easily hum now. Hypnotism is so weird. But it feels nice? You feel all floaty and hearing a pleasant voice like Doctor Serif’s so close to you isn’t a bad bonus, either. Hell, if this is what Mondays will be like, you might even start to look forward to them.

“Now. I want you to remain calm, even as I wake you. Can you do that for me, ____________? Hum if you think you can.” You hum. Why not? You feel pretty convinced. “Good. I will wake you now, counting up from one. At ten, I will snap my fingers and you will slowly open your eyes.”

One. Sinking back down from the blackness in your head.

Two.

Three. You feel the weight of gravity slowly coming back.

Four.

Five. Orienting yourself with your surroundings little by little.

Six.

Seven. Nearly there, eyes ready to open.

Eight.

Nine. Deep breath in…

Ten. Exhale, and gently wake.

Snap.

Your eyes flutter open, taking their time to focus. You try to sit up, but he stops you with a hand to your shoulder, instructing you to stay put and take it easy. You feel way more rested now, and you stretch after he removes the pads from your face and body. “That was… nice.”

“Isn’t it?” he chirps, placing his tools aside and checking your pulse manually. “I find hypnosis just simply fascinating.”

“You’ve made me a believer, Doctor Serif,” you snort.

He looks at you with a weird glint in his good eye. It seems like fondness. Should you be weirded out? “Good. This means we can move along to the rest of today with ease. Let’s start with the treadmill, after your stretches.” He gives you a knowing grin, and takes up his clipboard as he leads you over to the treadmill tucked against the far wall.

You groan, but nod in agreement. You wish he would have ended with hypnotism instead of started with it. Time to start the endurance tests. And so ensues the lake of sweat gathering everywhere. You conclude you’ll have to start bringing gym clothes. You mention that to the Doctor afterward, and he agrees to allow you some time to shower and change before eating. The Ladies’ Room is equipped with functional showers.

Thankfully, the cool down before lunch is refreshing and with the hour lunch you can rinse off your face in the Women’s Restroom at least before eating. It seems like the employees had taken their lunch at a different time—the lounge is empty except for Doctor Serif with a couple boxes. Smells like pizza. He bought you your own little pizza from the local joint you meant to try, but you constantly reminded yourself to eat healthier. So much for a diet…. This can’t be good, yeah?

With a smile he offers you a seat, and says that it’s okay to have a day to enjoy the food you love.

You happily thank him and take your seat next to him. You love how he thinks sometimes.

After lunch (which was a _McFeast_ of the ages), he begins teaching you breathing exercises. For being… well… chubby, you think he is surprisingly in shape. The breathing techniques he’s showing you are making you feel dizzy and winded, and he has to pause to show you how to do it right so you don’t pass out.

It sort of reminds you of when you overheard the Mommies to Be at the supermarket talking about their Lamaze classes. You shake the thought from your head. For a second. Then you remind yourself… **you agreed to be an** _ **incubator**_ _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This year has gone on too long and when I wrote this I desperately needed a cathartic chapter where I could just relax and have fun with it. I like writing hypnotism scripts. :|


	4. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time flies when you're working as a test subject in an underground laboratory. :)

The next two months were repetitive. Mondays were checkups—and once a month it was a thorough exam. The other two days you spent solving puzzles, or doing other things with what Doctor Serif said was your soul—which you had only heard of until you got to experience seeing yours for the first time. That was a ride you weren’t ready for. But he said that in order to be healthy, you needed to exercise your soul just like you needed to work y our brain and body. You had to admit: even though you had your doubts, you had really come along after a few days of soul magic exercises. It was pretty neat, and it made you feel sorta like a superhero or some shit. Everything else seemed pretty ordinary, other than the soul stuff. It was a relatively rigid schedule. 

The good news abounded though. He noted you were losing a good amount of weight just from the right diet and exercise, and even you took notice to how you felt. You had more energy, you slightly less depressed, and you even went out once a week with your friend who still lived across town. You paid, of course. For almost everything, which was freakin’ awesome. It felt great to be able to give like that. You two went shopping, helped her get a few new things for her wardrobe and a some new things for yourself because everything was falling off your ass now, spent some time at the bubble tea place you two always treated yourself to when you could, and even had a girls night in with pizza and movies when she had time. Ash was adjusting well to the high life, and you even started making his food on your days off instead of buying that dry and wet cat food crap. He seemed confused the first few times you gave him the food, but he adapted quickly and now leaps at you when he hears you cooking.

You reflected on what the Doctor was like on Monday. He seemed a little on-edge, and you weren’t too sure why. He said you were doing really well: endurance is up, stamina is high, you’re in a healthy weight range and everything seemed fine under the hood—so to speak. His monthly comprehensive exam was more like the one the first day you came in to this place as a test subject, though, and you felt like that should have been a little weird all things considered. He took blood samples, and did scans, and even did some more soul testing (so really, it seemed even more comprehensive than the first one). With a shake of your head, you tried not to think about it too much. You’re not sure what he had planned for the rest of the week, but you know it has to be a little crazier sounding than souls. Fuck, the more you thought about not thinking about it, it made it worse. You racked your brain trying to figure out what the hell Doctor Serif was planning. He was acting so weird compared to his normal oddness.

You didn’t know this when Wednesday came three months into your new job… things were about to get infinitely weirder.

 

Everything seems normal when you walk into the employee lounge Wednesday morning. It’s quiet, everyone is working and not on break. Doctor Serif comes to get you like normal. He is sporting a purple sweater vest and bow tie today, a white shirt under that. He seems a bit tense today yet as he offers his hand for you to take. “Good morning, ________. Did you have a good day off?” He asks pleasantly as you reluctantly accept the gesture.   
“It was alright. I went shopping with my friend yesterday. She needed a new pair of shoes and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to look around the mall either.”

“Oh, did she find what she needed?”

“Mm, I think so? Her boots were worn out and it’s hard to find her size. She settled for something cheap for now but we might have to make a trip to the Outlets for something more her style.” Huh… maybe the nerves is all in your head? He seems completely fine now.

“And you? Did you find something worthwhile there?”

“Some better fitting clothes I guess. I did find Ash a box that mounts on the window sill, so that’s cool. Now he can watch me cook his food.”

He chuckles. “Well, I’m sure he’d **really** like that. Cats are curious, aren’t they?”  
You nod in response, and watch as he unlocks the lab. Even-handed, unlike Monday. Yeah, it must have just been in your head. Even Monsters can have rough days, right? Maybe he just had too much coffee? Well… that’s a little relief.   
“So, what do you have planned today, Doctor Serif?”

He smiles—just a little. It doesn’t quite touch his eyes. Hm. Maybe you weren’t thinking up that crap after all? You shift in your stance just a little as you step inside. “Well… today marks the third month you’ve been here, officially. Your physical and mental capacities are in a good, near-optimal state now and this is usually when I lose my employees of your grade. I’m surprised you’ve stayed this long, but today comes the first real test to see how you can handle this work load.” He gestures to the table. “Please, have a seat, if you like.”

Your interest is piqued, but you find yourself not as nervous as you should be by his words. Those are usually things your boss tells you at the beginning of the job, not three months in. Alright, though, you’ll go along with it. The shit he’s pulled with you hasn’t been really harmful, which is good. So, really, there’s no reason not to trust that this is any different, despite the way he’s acting now, and acted on Monday. You scoot up onto the table like normal, with the help of a little boost from him on your backside. Guess it became habit for him from the first month you were here. You look around, trying to figure out if there was some new machine or something you were going to have to test or some sort of weird medical thing to try. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. “So… what’s the deal? I don’t understand.”

“Well, you see, you agreed to become an Incubator at the beginning of your contract. It’s time we begin preparing you for that directly now that we have the preemptives out of the way. I would like to give you a few weeks of training before we try the Impregnation Process. It will make it virtually painless that way, but the sooner we begin the better it will be.”

Oh. That’s probably why he was losing people. The time came to actually be pregnant and they just dropped everything and said no thanks. Can’t say you blame them. Ruining your body for science or whatever he uses babies or fetuses for is kinda hard to agree to. “It’s because they chickened out, isn’t it? Your old test subjects. They dropped everything because they couldn’t handle the idea of being prego when they faced it?”

“Mm, that’s one way to put it. Most of those I had interviewed were actually looking forward to that—I tended to have a lot of potential incubators who fantasized about pregnancies or hoped this would help their fertility in some way. However… It’s not so much the actual carrying that disturbed them… it was the method in which I induce it.”  
“What, they were purists or something? Did artificial insemination scare them off?”

He rubs the back of his head, blushing just a little. “Not exactly. You see, what I hope to carry out is not a ‘normal’ human way to reproduce.”

**That** makes you a little squeamish. “So… what? The fetus is like… partially developed or something? Or is it some sort of weird magic ritual?”

He takes a deep breath and adjusts his round glasses. “No—It’s via ovipostioning.” Oh. “… through this.” A large purple-black tentacle with a spade-tip unfurls from behind him, and curls like a snake around his shoulder. He pets it lovingly, smiling as it seems to kiss his cheek with a small tap.

**OH.**

Suddenly you feel very lightheaded, and you grip the table to keep yourself from falling forward onto the floor. Your face is burning so hot it’s like someone poured lava straight from a volcano on your skin. He sees your distress. The tentacle curls around a little tighter around him, and he approaches you. “________…? Remember to breathe, you’re okay.” Doctor Serif rests his hand on your shoulder, and you can’t even flinch away you’re so stunned. Your eyes are level with the undulating tentacle as it snakes around his round middle. You watch the suckers grip then let go, the tendril tensing and relaxing as if it were alive and thinking on its own. The texture of the top looks slick, smooth, like an octopus or squid. The doctor takes your chin in his hand and makes you break eye contact with the tentacle. “It’s okay, ___________. If you don’t want to continue with this, I will understand.” But… you need the money to live where you’re living. You need to keep this up, you can’t go back now… can you? Where would you go? You feel a little trapped, and the reality of this choice is crashing down upon you like the world on Atlas’s back. A sob rips through your chest and you throw your hands against your hot, embarrassed face. “__________, dear, you need to communicate with me, don’t bottle it up right now. It’s alright. If this is not what you want, I cannot fault you. Do you need a few moments to think about this?” You nod, hands still over your face. “Alright. I will be back in a few minutes then. I’ll set the tissues right next to you.” You hear him leave, the door is not locked. It’s like he knows you feel trapped.

With a ragged breath, you drop your hands and lay back on the table. You look up at the screen and suck in again. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. How could you think that you’d be okay with this? You’re too young to fuck yourself up like this, right? Why the hell would **anyone** agree to this? Why the hell would **you** agree to this? You signed that contract even though you knew that eventually you’d have to be an Incubator. Why didn’t you ask what that meant before hand? You knew you’d be pregnant but with an EGG? Inserted by a motherfucking TENTACLE? You have wayyyy more questions now. How does that even work? Why a human body? For how long? Why a tentacle? What is he using eggs for? SINCE WHEN DO MONSTERS PRODUCE TENTACLES OUT OF THIN AIR? IS THAT HIS MAGIC? WHAT THE LITERAL FUCK, SERIF? You find yourself wanting to scream. And then you realize you’re starting to zone out to the tiles again, and the feeling of screaming is dampened, then gone.

And then more feelings start stirring up into the mix of confusion, fear, and the little anger at yourself. It starts deep in your gut the more you think about that tentacle. You think about where it’s gonna go in order to put the egg in you. How far is that thing gonna be in you? How the hell is that gonna feel? Is it gonna feel super slimy and cold and gross? Is it gonna break you in half? You thought it looked kinda big… You have so many freakin’ questions your head is spinning. That tentacle… it was so weird. But the though of it is making you feel a little strange. You’re not quite sure what it is, but it’s a warmth that makes you want to cross your legs and hide your face in a pillow. It’s almost like embarrassment. This alien emotion is overwhelming everything else now. You’re scared, and you’re—hot? The hell is going on now? Your brain is sending you all sorts of mixed signals.

**You freak, even considering this**

**You like the idea don’t you?**

**What—do you have a thing for getting stuffed with an egg by some weird alien tentacle? Weirdo.**

**The Fuck is wrong with you?**

_**The McFreakin-Fuck is wrong with you??????** _

You’re stopped dead in your train of thought when you realize—you do have a masochistic curiosity about what this would feel like. That’s why the job was easy for you to accept. You’ve always been a closet freak, and now you have a once-in-a-lifetime chance to live out that secret shit you’ve been hiding in a shoe box under your bed for years. You’re getting paid to literally live out your deep dark secrets in the (somewhat) open. Well crap.

Your train of thought is stopped dead in its tracks when the door opens again. Doctor Serif is no longer petting his tentacle. It seems to have disappeared into thin air for all you know. You sit up, the blush rampant like a wildfire on your face and down your neck as you grip your arms to hug yourself. Holy shit you have to either admit that you want to continue like this and accept that your kinks are all coming to fruition, or you have to deny yourself the entire lifestyle and go back to living in the slums. To most that might seem like an easy decision. But not for you. Nope. You had to be the freak to actually enjoy entertaining the idea of being impregnated by a weird tentacle monster. Fan-freaking tastic. You wonder if he somehow must have known about your dark secrets.

His hands are folded behind his back as he walks in, pushing the door shut by leaning back on it a little bit. “Have you come to a decision?” the Doctor asks gently.   
You inhale sharply. “I have questions first.”

He blinks. That seemed to be more than he expected from you. “Alright. I will answer anything to the best of my ability.”

Good– you know he’ll be truthful at least. It’s only fair. “Why a tentacle? Why not some weird machine? You do that, don’t you?”

He smiles just a little. “It’s simply the easiest, most efficient way for my kind to reproduce. Other methods tend to take much longer, and are riskier. My tentacle is designed specifically for this purpose among other tasks, but this involves much less dangerous activity than the other ways we used to do things. A strong Human host seems to make things work much more smoothly, as well.” Seems fair enough…   
“Okay—Is the tentacle like some sort of magic thing?”  
“It is. It’s something I’ve always been able to conjure up. This is just a natural part of my physiology, as being a Monster allows for some interesting Magical quirks.” He takes a step closer to you, but not at all imposingly.

“Fine. That’s fine. So the eggs, they’re used to reproduce Monsters?”

An affirmative nod.

“What do you do with them?”

“Well, I find suitable parents for them, and they are raised in healthy environments. What else would I do with them?”

You shrug. Hell if you know. But, that puts your ethical standing at ease a little, at least. “What about how long this will take?”

“Mm, well, if you’re referring to the gestation, I’d say about three to maybe six months. It depends on a lot of factors. But it is guaranteed to be no more than six months.”

You sigh in relief a little. But you’re not done. You’re drilling him again. “What about the whole impreg thing? How long does that take?”

“Oh, anywhere between an hour to a full shift of work time.”

Your head is spinning again. How the hell does it take that long? … Nevermind. If you ask that you might not like the answer he’d give. “What… What’s the risks for me?”

He sighs and nods. He seems satisfied that you’d ask that question. “There are actually only a few risks, which I will go over in detail when we get closer to the time of impregnation. However, for now I can say there is minimal risk, as long as you follow the instructions I will give you. There is a chance your bone density may weaken, but that can be rectified quickly. There is a chance you could miscarry and we would have to do emergency surgery to keep the egg from harming you should the shell break when you’re further along in the incubation period. That has only happened once, and they survived just fine with minimal damage that was healed. It was because they had not been following my instructions and were climbing step-stools very late into their gestation.”   
“Will this like… be like a regular pregnancy? Like… will it fuck up my body?”   
“Oh—no, no, __________. Not at all. You will have temporary stretching in your uterus, but I can tell you that it will not do any permanent damage to you. Healing of the Incubator will be imperative after the birthing process, also, and I will insist on intensive recovery afterward.”

You take a deep breath. Well… that doesn’t sound so bad. If he can really truly make sure that you’d be safe… then there’s really no reason not to go through with this. He looks very serious at you as you think. You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath again. And sigh. “Alright. Alright, fine. I’m okay with this.” Your throat is scratchy as you give your permission to continue with this. You’re nervous as fuck.

“Are you sure, __________? I do not want you to feel pressured.” He takes another step toward you.

You nod once, hugging yourself. “We will take this slowly,” he reassures. “I want you to be entirely comfortable with this before we begin the actual process.” He looks at you gently, still approaching you at a very easy pace. You assure him that you want to continue this, but you’re still gripping your arms pretty tightly. He’s in front of you now, bent down a little to look at you face-to-face. “__________, You can relax. This is not going to happen today. We are going to take a few weeks to accustom yourself to the process, slowly walking you through the steps and teaching you some vital information regarding this. Alright?” You nod. He rests his hand on your head and pets your hair for a moment before letting his palm slide to your arms. He tells you to relax again, that it will be okay. With a quick tap on your forehead, your conditioning takes over and you instantly become calmer.

He asks you to close your eyes, and just sit back for a little while. He explains that you two will be working on trust-building and understanding exercises today. You nod in agreement, sit back and close your eyes. Well, this could be way worse, you think. He steps closer, standing at your side as you take another deep breath. You are instructed to hold out your hand, and you obey slowly. Something warm and smooth slips into your palm, and immediately you realize that it’s the tentacle. It’s much more solid than you were expecting. It feels like it’s pure muscle. Your eyes instinctively flutter open, and you see the tentacle is in fact in your hand, “belly up” with the suckers facing you. The suckers are squeezing together and relaxing, as if grabbing air. You get the feeling that it’s acting like a dog wanting its belly rubbed… you’re not sure you’re quite ready to touch it like that. The look of the suckers make your stomach roll and tighten just a bit.

“________, this is One, my ‘mating’ tentacle. It is a semi-sentient extension of myself that aids in the positioning of my ‘seeds’ or ‘eggs’ as they appear to most. You will be acquainting yourself with it in the coming weeks leading up to the actual event. It will be learning as much as it can about you as well as you about it. This is a very intimate process and in order for this to be a successful implantation you both must engage in socialization. It seems One is eager—it must sense something in you it likes. Good, we’re off to a good start.” Your head is a little fuzzy. Semi-sentient? So like it can recognize you? That’s…. a little weird. But really, you are agreeing to this whole crazy scheme so is it really **that** weird? The tentacle wiggles a little in your hand, seeming to settle into your palm contentedly. Its suckers are still undulating.

Morbid curiosity abounds now, and you slowly rest your other hand on the weird suckers. One attaches itself to your hand and starts slithering around it with the aid of the cups. It’s a weird sensation, like an over-sized caterpillar trying to gain high ground on your fingers. You can almost hear a faint “popping” as the suckers grip then let go lightly, reminiscent of soda bubbles tickling your nose. It tickles a little as it wraps around your wrist, and you stifle an awkward giggle. It’s… cute? The doctor takes notice how fast you’re accepting the thing, and smiles. By now it’s slipped up your arm and rested on your shoulder affectionately. “Well… um… this is… something?” What the fuck. You are simultaneously weirded out and enjoying this new experience.

“It is a bit strange at first. It seems like One is warming up to you rather quickly though. Excellent. We’re one step closer to being ready.” One rubs the underside of its spade tip on your cheek. It’s soft surprisingly fleshy and strong. He looks on as his tendril writhes down your shoulder and over your chest. You tense a little. “Just relax. It’s not going to hurt you. One is simply exploring you. It wants to get a tactile understanding of your body, it’s completely natural.”   
“R-Right.” You shift a little where you sit, but stay completely still. He reassures you again, asking that you try to relax a little more. He explains that it will be easier for One to understand your physiology for this process to be successful. You reluctantly nod and close your eyes… and hear him step to stand at your head. Your shoulders tense, and he forces them back down with a gentle rub. He tells you to breathe, and remember the exercises that he helped you with. His hands continue to massage your shoulders as One snakes down your body over your clothes. It’s getting rather close to the bottom of your shirt… You shift again, and he shushes you. One wriggles down to your hip and you freeze, your face beginning to burn with a weird sense of anticipation. Doctor Serif’s hands travel to rest on the sides of your head and rubs your temples with his thumbs. Your eyes flutter open and you meet his and One slips between your thighs to explore with its sensitive tip over the cloth of your pants. It pokes and prods your soft flesh, getting ever closer to your crotch. **Shitshitshitshit…** why. Why? Why??

The tentacle bumps into your tomb yet sealed, and you squeal and jump a little. It pokes again, twisting into your soft, covered mound. You jump again, and try to push away from it with your feet. The doctor holds you still with your shoulders to the table. You sense disappointment radiating from between your legs.

“Easy, ____________. One likes warm spaces, and its’ instinct is to breed in said warm spaces. Eager to start, most certainly.” You cover your face with your hands again. “It’s alright. I know this is taking some time to get used to. We’re still taking this slow, I promise.” Kneading your shoulders some more, One moves on after a moment of nestling in between your legs to explore the rest of your body. It squeezes around your legs and then just lays across your body contentedly. “Well, well. One is happy with you, it seems. Perfect. We can move on when you feel comfortable.” 

“Move… O-On?”

He nods. “Meaning that One will begin Phase Two.”

“W-what’s ‘Phase Two, exactly?”

“We will begin to condition your body to accept One, as part of the ‘Understanding’ exercises. It will take roughly two weeks with intensive sessions at least two of the three days. Then, we can begin the Incubation Phase.”

You swallow hard. Oh man. You didn’t think it was going to be like that at all… “Okay,” you manage to squeak out.   
  
“This is a very intimate process. I understand your insecurity—but I can assure you that this will be much different than your fears throughout.” Sure it will buddy. Sure it will. With another swallow, you nod weakly. You can feel your legs trembling a little nervously. Oh jeez. You’re about to scream in a weird mix of excitement and terror. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO YOURSELF HUH? The doctor’s hands knead into your shoulders. “Before we begin, I will talk you through this phase, alright?” You nod again.

“So, we will always begin with a relaxation exercise, and then end with one.” He reaches down and pulls up a small, opaque round thing that looks like jelly. “This is an example of what you will be carrying. This is a dud—it was left to get cold.” He squeezes it gently. “Go ahead and feel it if you like, ____________.” You nervously take it and look at it. It feels soft, and squishy for the most part, a little firm in the center. It pops out of your hand when you squeeze it too hard and he catches it easily with a laugh. “It begins as a flexible gelatinous egg, and then the exterior becomes calcified as gestation continues. You may feel a bit tightness in your uterus as it grows to maturity, and occasional discomfort has been noted, but more or less this is a painless process overall.” You nod and squeeze your eyes shut. His hand pets your hair for a moment, and you feel the tendril move back up your thighs and withdraws from touching your body. “Do you have any questions?” You shake your head no. “Alright. We’re going to begin Phase Two, then. If you will please undress. I will provide a drape for you and have you lay on the table again.” With a weak nod. You slide down off of the table, a little numb. You slip off the bottom half of your clothes with shaky hands. “Your shirt and bra, also, ____________. Please.” Your veins run cold. You’ll be so… vulnerable. You comply nervously, and then hop up on the table.

Doctor Serif’s gaze is respectfully trained on your face as you lay back down. He places the thin sheet over your naked frame and then looks down at you as he folds the sheet so it’s open just below your knees. He instructs you to take the same position as you do for your examinations, lifting your hips to place a firm pillow under your backside. One shudders and you watch as a clear sheen forms on its skin, beginning to drip a gooey looking substance near the tip. “One will take it’s time with you. If you feel uncomfortable at any time, I want you to say ‘Red,’ and I will cease this process. Saying ‘Yellow’ will bring my attention to potential discomfort and I will adjust One accordingly. ‘Blue’ signifies that all is good. I will ask how you feel now and again throughout this, alright? I want you to be completely honest with me.” You nod. Great–safe words. That makes you feel **much**  safer. One snakes down onto the table around your leg and trails up your thigh. The slime now coating the tentacle is warm, and feels like Astroglide as the suction cups slip across your skin. The doctor is placing patches on your chest as One takes its’ sweet time getting to the prize between your legs. “Relax, and breathe,” he mutters, resting his hand on your shoulder as the tension builds. A nervous whimper escapes your lips, and you can’t help but tremble a little. Doctor Serif shushes you. It’s so close to your lips, and your breaths are shaky. You shift your legs, fighting the urge to fold them shut. He lays a calm hand on your knee. “Steady, now. I know this is difficult.” 

Four inches. Two inches… one… You whimper again, and clamp your eyes shut and ball your fists tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to fast-forward to the good stuff. As much fun as it is to write slice of life, smut is much more interesting to type. Don't you think?


	5. Egg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Care for an egg in this trying time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, this time there is a special little cameo of a very cool Gaster OC~

For the first week, you had to stay over for thirty minutes because the “Understanding Exercises” were more intense than you thought and couldn’t move. You’re pretty sure you’re ruined after this… Not physically, but holy shit mentally you don’t think you could ever go back to ‘normal’, human sex. All of your fears were seemingly erased from the first exercise on that first day–after your second orgasm in front of the Doc. One was very adamant about making it happen every. Single. Session.  You eventually got used to having them in his presence when the second week came along, and you also found yourself getting so excited to go to work that you could not sleep. Which lead to you taking naps in the lunch hour for a little time and having to eat lighter lunches so you wouldn’t get sick with the rest of the day. Doctor Serif scolded you gently about letting yourself get that bad, and gave you a few pills to help you sleep soundly and properly on your days off. 

You had to make up excuses to your friend why you looked so scruffy in the first week when you went out for your weekly lunch. There was no way in hell you’d tell her what was actually going on at work. She might not have liked that very much, or she might’ve kinkshamed or something. You did tell her that work was fucking you over, so you chose to not care what you looked like as much on your days off. She took it for face value. Thankfully. Explaining your tentacle fantasies coming true in public might have been a little difficult.

The second week went much better, you felt. You were getting used to this more quickly than you thought, and it was just fine with you the more you thought about it. Most people would **kill** to get paid a vast amount of money and live out their crazy dreams—sexual or not. And you were one of the luckiest people ever. As long as you listened to what the Doc told you, and kept up on your end of the bargain, you were living the high life. You probably had almost 10 k in your bank account by now. You lived minimally despite the new setting you found yourself in, and the costs that you had accounted for were easily taken care of by one and a half paychecks a month. It was fantastic, and there’s no way you’d ever go back.

He seemed much more relaxed now that you seemed to have come to terms with all of this. Your resolve is affecting him, too, it seemed. You wondered how long this all would last, but you stopped yourself from thinking about the what-ifs on your days off. Instead, you played with Ash, went for walks (even though the air was getting a little chillier now with Fall coming to a close), and went out with your best friend.

Friday came along in the second week of “Phase Two,” as Doctor Serif called it. He told you that Monday you would need to make sure Ash was taken care of overnight, and that you should pack a bag with an extra set of clothes and necessary toiletries. When you asked for an explanation, he said that “We will be staying the night to ensure your stability.” Your stomach dropped. Staying in the lab overnight seemed like a scary idea. He assured you that it is only to monitor you, that you could go home in the morning to finish your day off.  You couldn’t help but agree—he’s been nothing but kind to you. So over the weekend you convince your friend to feed and water Ash on Monday night. You make up the food ahead of time Sunday and tell her that it’s in the fridge, then pack up with shaking hands before bed. Phone charger, headphones, a couple things to draw with because you don’t know if you’ll have internet connection except for your data… then of course clothes and toothbrush, and maybe your hairbrush.

 

…Monday.

 

You hesitate getting out of bed, just for a second. You know that Doctor Serif wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, but it’s still freaking scary somehow. What will it be like, staying in the labs overnight? Are you going to have to sleep on that lab table? With almost no noise to be heard in there, it would be really creepy, you think. When you pull up to be let in, your boss’s son, who you eventually come to find out is named Sans, is there again. He gives you a smirk when he sees you, and gives you a two-finger salute. You blush as he lets you through. Does he actually know, or are you letting your nerves get to you? You park a decent place away from everyone so that way the good spots aren’t taken up all night, and trudge in with your backpack. The closer you get, the heavier your feet feel. No turning back now, you remind yourself. You need to do this. You should do this. You had no problems in the past two weeks, this should be easy now. Your heart is pounding as you trek up to the lounge. He’s waiting for you there. Breath shaky, you step forward, waiting for him to say something.

He smiles gently as you, seeing the nerves creep up on your face. The Doctor holds out his hand. “I will show you to the recovery room first before we begin. It’s in an area you have not been to yet, and it may be good for you to see it. Come along, you can drop your things off there.” There’s a recovery room? A little relief floods into your heart, making it lighter. You thought for sure you were gonna have to stay in that lab all night. With a nod, you take his hand and walk off.

It’s down in the basement, but further down the hall. Instead of a metal door like the others, it’s a welcoming wood door. Okay, maybe this won’t be so bad? It seems he’s thought of everything so far…. But why wouldn’t he? He’s helped you get everything you need from day one anyway. The door opens to reveal an open floor with sunny basement windows and hardwood floors. There are several beds that are separated by curtains that have been pulled back, and once again you’re relieved to find they’re not gurneys but beds that have been neatly made. There is a tall monster laying in one of the beds near the wall under one of the windows… he looks a little like Doctor Serif but skinnier and… goopier? You can’t help but stare at his uncovered upper half, which looks partially like bone and partially like tar. He’s texting. Doctor Serif bends down and rests his hand on your shoulder to talk with you quietly. “Would you like to say hello? He will be your roommate tonight.”

You nod shyly. He looks up at you when you walk over. “Um, hi. I’m __________.” The other Monster looks up from his phone.  
With a shy goopy smile, he answers back with a nod. “Hello. I’m Doctor Baxter Wingdings Gaster.”  
“How are you feeling right now, Baxter?” Aster asks sweetly, moving closer to the look alike. He pats his shoulder carefully.

Doctor Gaster shrugs a little. “To be honest I can’t tell much of a difference with the treatment we tried. Is there supposed to be a latency with the extraction?”

“Not usually—but sometimes it does take multiple sessions. Perhaps later this evening we can try again if you’re feeling up to it?”

He nods and leans back in bed again.

Doctor Serif turns to you and smiles. “Go ahead and pick a bed, dear. You can set your backpack on there and we’ll head back to my lab to get started.”

You pick the closest one to you and follow him out, waving goodbye to your temporary roommate. He waves back, with a knowing smirk. Your face flushes hot and you hunch over as you leave with Doctor Serif. How many people know about this ovi thing? You cross the threshold into the lab, your blood running cold for a moment as reality starts to set in again. The table is already laid out with a pillow for your head and another for your hips, along with rests for your legs. You feel his hand on your shoulder, and you jump nervously. “Just like we practiced, ________. There will only be a couple differences, alright? Go ahead and dress down and we will begin.” He walks over to his work station, turning his back to you to do what you need to. You fold up your clothes neatly and put them on the shelf under the table before climbing up and assuming the position, covering yourself with the thin sheet and trying to just… clear your mind. Holy shit you’re actually doing this. What will this ultimately feel like? One is… intense… but when it shoves that egg inside of you will it hurt? How long will this take ultimately? You squirm and adjust the pillow under your hips a little, then pick at your nails nervously. That egg that you saw before seemed pretty big, jelly like or not. And it’s supposed to calcify inside of you? What about the shit that he talked about before—your bones losing density, the egg breaking inside of you, what if you’re premature, what if you reject the egg, what then? He comes back as you begin biting your nails a little, and he takes your hands in his, beckoning you to look into his eyes. “Relax, little one. We will go through the same exercises before. Do you have any questions?”  
“Um…” He nods to encourage you. “I—what if this doesn’t work? What will happen? What about the egg breaking inside of me? Or I lose bone density? How long is this going to take? Was the egg painful for others?” The questions just flood forward, and he lets you vent until you’re completely out of steam, still holding your hands gently as you barrage him with questions.  
“Those risks are very small, _________, I can assure you. As long as you follow my instructions, all should go smoothly. The egg will not hurt going in, or coming out when it’s time. I will provide you a bit of topical anesthesia to help ease any potential discomfort since it will breach your cervix. You know that One knows your body well now, so there shouldn’t be any pain at all. As for potential rejection, all of my preliminaries suggest that it is not likely. Only certain soul types tend to be prone to it, but you are not in that small spectrum. The worst you may feel is a full sensation as it grows to maturity inside of you. There is nothing to fear, darling. I think it’s time for you to relax, though, so you can see for yourself that there is no need to worry. Hm?” He lets go with one hand, and with a smile taps your forehead. Your mind falls a little quieter, from buzzing wasps to muttering thoughts. “There we go. This is just the beginning, _________. Relaxing will make this go much more smoothly.” You groan in response as he sets your hands down at your sides and places monitor patches on your chest and temple, then moves around between your legs. A whimper escapes your lips, and he shushes you gently. “Not yet, dear. Not yet. I’m just administering the anesthetic. Will you take some deep breaths for me? You do as told, clamping your eyes shut. You feel the chill of metal, and a little sting, and a wave of warmth floods around the prick. You sob a little. It was more stress than you were prepared for, and you haven’t even started yet.

Doctor Serif walks back around, this time standing at your head, still hushing you. “I know, I know. This is a scary, stressful prospect. I can’t stop you from worrying. Let it out. You know this will not hurt, all that practice we had in the past two weeks has proven that.” He rubs your shoulders and looks into your misty eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” you whine.

“Hush, there’s no need to apologize. This is a big event for you, I understand. I can only assure you that there is nothing to be afraid of. Let me soothe your fears, ___________. You’ll find this to be a very pleasant experience once you can let go.” He pats your tears dry with a tissue and smiles. “I will divulge—the reason this sometimes takes so long is because I must help my subjects relax enough to let this happen. I am very happy you’ve come this far, dear. This will not leave any permanent damage to you, I will tell you as many times as you need to hear it. All it will do is give you a strange, full feeling for a few months and then it’s all over. Will you breathe for me, and let yourself just….let… go?” He touches your forehead again, and the calm washes over you once more. “Very good. And again.” Tap, another wave. You’re trembling lightly, fighting the feeling a little. “Easy. You will remain as conscious as you like, I promise this. We cannot do this with your stress so high.” Why are you so stressed? Is it because of the possibilities of this going completely wrong? You know that’s slim to none with all the precautions that the Doc took before this… he was even so kind to make sure there would be no chance this would hurt at all. You let your eyes close, and you take a few deep breaths. Your heart no longer pounds in your chest, and you don’t feel so shaky. You hear a chair being pulled up, and your eyes flutter back open. He’s sitting at your side. One is just unfurling and stretching out to touch your cheek in greeting. You pat it a couple times before it curls around to greet its owner, and it stretches again. “Are you ready, One? Remember—be gentle with her, just like before. We have all the time in the world.”

One stretches again, suckers squeezing and relaxing as if to agree. It snakes down under where your legs rest up, then scopes up to rub up against your leg with its smooth side as it shudders, preparing itself to thrust into you. As it ducks down, it presses against your inner thigh while nearing your opening. Its’ spade tip separates your lips and pushes its underside up against your clit, pulling back the hood as it moves to tease you. You reflexively grip the sheet and shut your eyes. This is different. One continues to creep up your body under the sheet, and rolls across your breast while a large sucker takes a hold on your sensitive nub between your legs. A yelp escapes your lips and you move to clamp a hand over your mouth. The smooth, slick texture of the tentacle against your skin is shocking. Yeah, this is **definitely** different. “D-Doctor is thi-this necessary?!” You whine behind your hand, tears stinging your eyes as you fight the oncoming orgasm. One is kneading your skin with its strong muscle and playing with your nipples, bumping and slipping its girth between your pussy lips.

“Mm, truthfully not,” He replies calmly, taking your hand from your face and smoothing it out on the table again. “It’s a little extra pleasure One wishes to provide, to continue to help you relax. If it is not something you like, I can command it to simply move on.”

“Um…” it feels good? But… is it wrong for you to want it to keep going? “It’s fi-” One’s sucker against your clit pulls and makes you cry out. The tendril grips around your breast and rubs its suction-cup lined length against your little button, occasionally finding purchase on it as it writhes. Your cries become squeals in moments, the sensation quickly overwhelming you and making you tremble and thrash. Tears roll down your cheeks as you let yourself get lost and One continues to focus its attention on pleasuring you. Doctor Serif is resting his hand on your shoulder and watching you with clinical seriousness as climax after climax overwhelms you. Your eyes meet his just as another wave of pleasure electrifies your spine, and you turn away and shut your eyes. You can’t bear to admit this any more that you like this a little too much. Your thighs are trembling, your arms feel like jelly, your head is spinning a little and your breath is shaky… he probably knows just how much you like it just by how bad you look now. One lets go of your body and slithers back down to get into position. It slips down your slit and presses against your opening now. You buck as it wiggles, the tip opening you up little by little, but Doctor Serif presses you down onto the pillow by your stomach. “Easy now. We don’t want to rush this. Let One do the work, alright?”

“Y-Yes, Doctor. Sorry, D-Doctor,” you whine.

“That’s alright, I know it’s easy to get excited. Just take it easy, and let One do its’ job.”

You nod and whimper weakly, pressing your head into the pillow to keep yourself more still as One thrusts into you. He tisks and guides you back into a more natural position. “Remember the exercises we did. Let’s not deviate now, ________.” He chides gently. You nod again and try to breathe as the tendril now thrusts into you deeper and deeper, inching ever closer to your cervix. It curls up just as it reaches the barrier and pushes into your G-spot with ease, tucking itself into the sensitive nerves as it stuffs further inside of you. The girth is stretching you and the tip rolls over and over the spot, coaxing another release from you within minutes. You’re cloudy-headed now, heaving for breath and wondering if it’s going to keep going until you pass out. The thrusts are more intense with each passing moment—harder, deeper. A sob rips through your chest and tears fall freely down your cheeks as overstimulation hits you like a ton of cinder blocks. You can’t think you’re so thrashed. And the egg part hasn’t even come along yet.

You lay there listlessly, mind numb from the overload. The Doctor takes your hand in his and squeezes. “How are we feeling, _________? Hm?”

You can’t even find your mouth right now, but you manage to mutter “blue” nonetheless to give him the green light to continue. He nods and lets out a long sigh, a lump slowly working from the base of the tentacle down. You feel a pressure at your cervix as One’s head begins to push into it. You whine, expecting pain, but nothing but more intense pushing happens. With short, gentle nudges you feel its tip slip little by little further in. Your sensitized walls thrum against the tendril tightly as it grips you with its suckers to gain leverage. You hear a little noise come from Doctor Serif, and your hazy attention turns to him for a moment. A little purple blush is on his chubby cheeks, and both eyes are glowing—the good one purple and the gimpy one red. He smiles at you kindly. You wonder if that is just a result of producing the egg and maintaining the tentacle. Suddenly, you can feel the egg pushing against you as it is slowly thrust into you. A whine slips from your lips, and he shushes you gently. As the egg works its way inside, you feel it gently stretching you and it’s just enough to be a little uncomfortable. You whine and say, “yellow.” One stops moving, and Aster rolls his shoulders back.

“We will take it slower—is that okay? We cannot pull out or we will have to start again.” You nod and whimper. “Alright. Let’s do a breathing exercise. You will feel One shudder a few times to release a bit more lubricant. It should help with your discomfort. You’re doing so well, ________. We’re a little over halfway now.” You nod again and clamp your eyes. The tendril vibrates inside of you and a soothing warmth returns to your raw walls, but the movement makes you sob a little. The Doctor attempts to comfort you with words, but you squirm, overwhelmed by the sensations. His thumb rubs your forehead, palm resting on the top of your head. “It’s okay to let it out. It’s a lot to take, I know. It’s alright. You’re doing better than most. Deep breaths for me, ___________, and relax your eyes.” You feel hands rubbing your shoulders and neck, then up to your temples. You assume that it’s those weird hands you saw once a while ago. You find yourself relaxing with the kneading, slowly calming from sobs to hiccups, and finally deep breaths again. “There we go. Good girl. Are we alright to continue?” You nod, and he pats your tears dry with a tissue.  

One slithers through your cervix finally as the egg undulates forward yet, and you feel so full. Laying there, you dare to look down with a roll of your eyes. Your belly is just ever so slightly extended out, as you can see from the drape over your frame. Your face burns embarrassingly at the view. How in hell does this not hurt more, even with the little numbing that he gave you before this? You try to just focus on your breathing. You don’t want to think about when the drugs wear off and you’re left to deal with the pain. He is quick to notice your thoughts drifting though. “What is on your mind, dear? Does it still hurt?”  
You shake your head, and you feel the egg pressing against you as One works it through the tight fit. “Not yet anyway..”  
He nods in understanding. “Ah—you’re worried that…” He pauses and winces a little as his tentacle twists a bit. “… You’re worried about after the anesthesia wears off. Don’t worry. I have preventative care all ready after we’re done here. I wouldn’t dare put someone under that sort of stress with what they are doing for Monster Kind.” He smiles wryly at you, the blush on his face deepening. “It’s as if you have no trust in your Doctor, _________.” He teases, winking at you with his good eye.  
With a few more twists, you note that his red eye flashes for a moment and he leans forward to brace himself on the table. “It’s almost in. This is going to be the second most difficult part of this process, but I need you to contract your muscles around One, take a deep breath in, then exhale and completely relax. The egg will not be able to be implanted otherwise. On my count, alright? We will do this as many times as we need to.” You whimper, but agree. He counts, and you follow along as best as you can. You can’t feel your nether-regions very well after the thorough fucking the tendril put you through, but you manage to eventually feel out where you need to contract and relax. After the fourth one, One pushes forward and the egg pops past your cervix and it fills you up with a warm sloshing sensation.

A weird wave of relief washes over you and a surprised sob rips through your throat. There’s a small pause from Doctor Serif. “There we go… You did so very well, dear. Mm…” He eyes you gently and pets your hair a couple times, smiling. One slowly withdraws from your body, inching out to make sure it doesn’t hurt you. It leaves you feeling empty and a little sore. You feel a little pinch in your arm, and a flood of cloying warmth. With a kiss to your forehead, your vision goes blurry and darker by the breath. “Time to rest for a little while, _____________. You did very well.”

 

You sleep, watching his red iris flicker and fade into the deep black of his gimpy eye.

 

When you wake up, you find yourself dressed and in the bed that you put your bag on earlier. Perfect timing—Doctor Serif walks in. He’s with Doctor Gaster, walking him back to the bed. Gaster looks rough, as if Serif put him through one of those intense cardio experiments he had you do a few months back. He is helped into bed again and he looks over after thanking him. “Aster, it looks like your Incubator is awake,” He mutters. You move to hide under the blankets, and both Doctors laugh quietly.  
“It would seem so.” Doctor Serif bubbles, walking closer to where you lay. You pin the blankets to your face, but he manages to pull them away. “After all that and you’re still so shy. Be proud, my dear. You are doing something very noble for Monster Kind, after all.” He lays his hand on your belly and rubs gently as he flips back the sheets. “Seems it’s still in a proper position…Do you feel any pain, yet?”  
You shake your head no, and he nods and smiles at you. “There is a call button on your night stand if that happens to change before your next dose of medication. Are you feeling any anxiety, or depression?”  
“I… don’t know. I kinda just woke up right when you walked in.”

“That’s alright. I’ll be checking in on you through your recovery tonight through tomorrow before you leave, and then through the gestation. Don’t be afraid to tell me anything, alright?” You nod and sigh. You still feel a bit groggy from whatever he gave you, and his hand on your belly is warm as it rubs over it. Your eyes flutter a little bit as you resist closing them, and he chuckles. “Are you still sleepy, ___________?” You hum. “It’s okay to rest, little one. I will just check your vitals and be on my way.”  
You take that invitation quickly, falling asleep again as he checks your pulse, hearing Doctor Gaster chuckling at him.


	6. Just a Phone Call Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world can be cruel. Sometimes to an extreme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you guys to know that this chapter includes graphic violence and a split second paragraph of attempted rape. Feel free to skip this chapter if it makes you uncomfortable. I'll put a summary of everything at the end of the chapter so you are caught up for the next one.

The first month and a half it was only a little difficult to adjust with the egg inside you. You noticed you couldn’t really wear jeans comfortably, but that wasn’t really too much of a problem. You preferred wearing your sweats or leggings or tights and skirts most of the time anyway. You went about your normal routine for a while, just maybe a little slower because you were afraid of what Doctor Serif was warning you about, even though he said it wasn’t more of a risk until a month before it was time to extract the egg. You cringed when he put it like that, but he assured you before you were released to go home that it was not going to be as bad as it sounded. You did have to change your diet a little to accommodate your calcium levels as Doctor Aster expected to happen, but he gave you a supplement to help with that, too. Everything seemed okay. You weren’t getting any special looks from people when you’d go shopping, or when you’d go out with your friend for bubble tea or to your favorite restaurants. That was something you were super worried about. You knew that there was still some unrest even after the Monsters helping the Humans in science and technology. That was to be expected; not all Humans are as understanding. That’s why you kept a taser with you in your purse.

What you didn’t know though… is that some will go to extreme lengths to slap you with hate because of what you are now.

Over the nineth weekend, you decided to go out to a restaurant you and your friend always saved up for. You started to feel a little bloated at this point. The egg distended your belly a bit and you had to wear more dresses to feel less constricted. You also were instructed to wear flat shoes now, and not use step stools without a spotter. No one seemed the wiser… except your friend. When you settled into a booth, and you ordered a non-alcoholic strawberry daiquiri instead of the one with the extra shot of rum in the tube, she insisted you tell her what the hell was going on. You winced… it was very busy in there and she was being very loud. She persisted throughout the meal, even though you tried to deny everything. The nervousness made your stomach tighten, and it caused cramps around the egg. You gave in, knowing she’d just keep it up anyway. You tried to keep your full explanation quiet though, because people were staring at you uncomfortably. She, of course, could not keep her mouth shut, but thankfully people didn’t seem to catch the gist. She blathered aloud just as the waiter came by, and she ordered a round for herself in celebration for you. The waiter insisted on carding both of you even though you weren’t drinking, which really annoyed you. You had to dig your driver’s license out of your huge bag of junk and pills and such. You barely heard one of the bottles fall out of the purse when you turned to hand your ID over. Your friend was squealing the rest of the night, and you were already tired after the meal. She proceeded to call you after you got back to your apartment, and talk about a baby shower and shopping for clothes and everything… even though you told her you’re not keeping the Monster baby for yourself.  
That next week, things seemed to go just fine. The routine examination was fine, and you even looked at the scan of what the egg looked like now. It was white in the image, like a very small ostrich egg now. Doctor Serif said that was normal. Wednesday, you went through some mental tests. Nothing too special.

 

Friday arrives, and you have your scheduled minor endurance training. You go home happily after a full eight-hour day, only slightly exhausted this time. You are ready to get a shower, slip into some pajamas, and dig into that quart of cookies n’ crème ice cream that’s been calling your name all week. It’s just beginning to get dark as you arrive back at your complex. People are walking their dogs in their winter coats, letting them get their last bits of fresh air for the night. You want to bound inside and greet your fluffy ball of fur and get him fed before you start your night.

 

You’re so tired, you don’t notice that your door was easy to unlock.

 

You’re so tired, you don’t notice how quiet it feels in your apartment living room when you walk in.

 

Until you flick on the lights and see that everything loose that you had displayed is thrown and smashed on your floors, and spray paint is dripping off the walls onto the carpets in giant black letters that read “MONSTER FUCKER.” You call out for your kitty. Silence. You call out again, a little louder, stepping inside, gripping your taser at the ready. A hand grabs your hair and drags you.

You scream, and you’re thrown onto the shattered glass, then kicked. You twitch and try to scramble away. The hands pull you back in a blur, right into another kick. This one’s to your face. “What, Humans aren’t good enough for you? Can’t just let a human knock you up you fucking freak?” they jeer, winding up a punch. It’s aimed at your stomach. They know. You try to feel for your taser, but it must have gotten tossed when you did. “Maybe after this I’ll show you just how much better Human babies are!” the intruder growls, throwing the punch down.

You scream, and a wave of green flames knocks the invader back, burning their hands and arms as they step away howling. You see your taser gleaming just under the futon, and lunge toward it as they leap at you angrily. They grab one of your arms, and in an instant you spin and hit him with the electric barbs. They fall unconscious and collapse to the floor. You collapse, too, feeling very sick to your stomach. You retch a little, and puke up bile from the stress. You cry hopelessly. Ash slinks out of the bedroom, ears back and hackles high. You grab your kitty and hug him close. “I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry,” you cry to Ash, petting his fur to calm you. He meows and meows, claws bared but you don’t care as you snuggle him tightly. His face rubs against your cheek again and again, and you bury your face into his fur for a moment. 

Keeping him tucked into you, you slide over avoiding more of the glass to search for your phone. You’re not sure who to call… You know the local police have been prejudiced lately toward Monsters, too… even if it’s not quite the same as what just happened. You hit a speed dial button, and speaker.  

“__________?” A warm, comforting voice lilts on the other end.

“H-Help me. Pl-Please,” you sob.

“Is Ash with you?” His voice is even… but you can tell he’s serious.

You hum a yes, and hug and kiss him again. Ash licks your cheek in return. 

“Give me five minutes.”

 

Doctor Serif is in your door in four. He has an empty duffel bag and two other different bags. He doesn’t waste any time. “Is that who did all this?” He points at the unconscious Human and kneels at you and sees your face, his own twisting in a mix of sadness and anger. “Alright. Here, ________. Give me Ash for a moment.” He holds his hands out gently, and you reluctantly hand him over. The doctor notes the injuries on your arms, and then promptly puts your cat in a bag cooing to him, head sticking out of the corner and tightened. Ash gnaws on his finger for a moment when he scratches his chin, but he gets a treat to distract him. “Alright, can you walk, little one?”

You look down. Blood is starting to pool from under your legs. You shake your head nervously. You’re a little afraid to. “Okay. I’ll use my summoned hands to carry you. It’s alright. I need you to help me, though, before we leave. Can you do that?” He keeps his voice gentle as he speaks to you. You nod, tearing up. “Good. Now, you can stay right here, I’m going to tie them up with magic while we get your essentials, but I can’t move them for investigative purposes. I’ve called the authorities, but you don’t have to deal with them yet. You need medical attention first. You need your wallet, your phone, and social security card. Where are they?” 

“I-I don’t want to go to a ho-hospital,” You hiccup. You don’t feel safe around Humans now. Someone in the ER could poison you or mistreat you.

“Shh, I’m not taking you there. I’m taking you to my home office. No one knows where it is, it’s perfectly safe there. Okay?”

You nod, and point. “M-My purse is over by the door. I have my phone… social security card is in m-my dresser under some socks. T-top drawer.”

“Good. Stay here, stay awake, dear. I’m going to get a few changes of clothes for you, and your card. Can you hold Ash again until I get back?” You nod, and he hands your cat back to you, in the bag. Purple-black sludge wraps around the attacker, and he stands and walks off toward your bedroom. It takes him no time at all. You start to feel the pain in your back. And your legs. And your everything. You whimper, and want to hug Ash more, but you can barely move now. Every little thing hurts. You look at the perpetrator. They seem… familiar?

Doctor Serif comes back in no time, the duffel bag now filled with your pertinents and clothes. You feel your eyes getting really heavy, and it’s harder to breathe. “Stay awake,” he reminds you quietly. “Just until I can make sure you don’t have a concussion. Please do this for me, ___________.”

“S-Sorry, Doctor…” you mutter.

“No need to say sorry. You’re going into shock, we need to go now.” Carefully, hands pick you up and cradle you around the wounds, to not dig the glass in further, Ash resting contentedly against your chest, his face against yours.   
You hear sirens in the distance as he lays you in the back seat with your feet and head propped up with blankets. “Stay awake, _________.” You whine. He moves into the front seat, and the car moves. It seems like it takes forever, but with twists and turns, and Ash occasionally kneading your chest that mercifully keep you from falling asleep. You look down and get sick though. Rich leather supports your body more or less, and it’s being soiled in your glass-riddled blood. You groan as you come to a stop. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re here. Going to lift you in three, two… one.” The hands come back and pick you up, lifting you from the car again. You are too dizzy and sick from the pain to really care about any details of his house right now, or where you are even at. Doctor Serif takes Ash from you while you are brought down a hallway, stopping for a moment to release him into a room with a door. You hope he’ll be okay… your boss is quick to reassure you that he won’t let Princess near him until he has time to make sure they’ll get along.   
  
Down some stairs you go. A door opens to reveal an examination room very similar to the one at the labs. “Do you think you can sit up on your own?” He asks gently. You try to lift your hand. It trembles and falls to your side again. “No, that’s alright. Easy now. I am sorry for this, but I will need to cut away your clothes. I can’t risk pulling off your dress and opening wounds further.”   
“D-Do what you need to… Just… just make it stop…” you beg, tears burning the cuts on your face. The pain is sharp and throbbing now, and your whole body is cramping from the blood loss.   
  
He croons and tisks wordlessly to you, trying to remain calm. A warm aura radiates from him, even as he quickly snips away your clothes and begins treatment in a clinical manner. After he makes sure that you don’t seem to have a severe concussion, he gives you some pretty potent pain medicine that makes you feel cottony and floaty and asks for permission to take photos of the injuries. You reluctantly agree, knowing the police will need evidence. You only feel slight tugging as he stitches up the bigger cuts on your back, arms, and legs. After that, he gives you an IV of a strange deep muddy red liquid, which seems to faintly glow green, and another one of what looks like the standard saline drip hospitals use. He wraps your torso in gauze bandages after cleaning the blood off the table with iodine, which makes your nose wrinkle. As you’re guided to lay on your back again, more honeyed words drip from your protector—er, boss.

“I want to do a scan, may I?” You nod. It’s over with a quick ultrasound over your slightly swollen belly. He seems relieved. “You did a very good job protecting the egg, ________. I am so very sorry that it came to that.” Doctor Serif frowns and pets your hair gingerly. A floating hand brings over a frozen spongy thing, which he places over your blackened eye. “Unfortunately I cannot use magic to heal you until the Extraction is over.”

You want to sob more. “Y-You mean I’ll have scars?”

“Oh, no. No, no, sweetheart. When I do your intensive healing afterward, I’ll be sure to heal your scars also. Just take it easy, alright? For now, you can stay here, away from the city. I know it’s not optimal—not getting away from work since you work for me, but I will do my best to give you space. You may want to refrain from contacting too many Humans until we have this sorted… I’m so sorry, ___________.”

You agree about not talking to Humans, but shake your head. Why is he sorry? It’s not his fault that the human broke into your apartment and beat you to a pulp and defaced your new home. It was the human’s. You sit up, pulling Doctor Serif closer to you, and then hug him best you can. He seems stunned for a minute, until you start crying. You want to say that aloud, that it’s not his fault, that you’re thankful he came to your rescue when you didn’t know what to do. But you can’t even speak anymore, your throat is so sore from screaming. He wraps his arms around you protectively, and hushes you a little. He kisses your forehead, and presses your head against his chest. The sound of his SOUL beating is calming in this unsettling silence. “Hush, now, dear. It will be all right. Close your eyes and rest. When you wake, you’ll still be safe.   
“I-I’m afraid.”

“Rightfully so, darling, but I assure you that you remain safe here.” He lays you back down, your head now in a soft pillow. He walks away for just a moment and over to a cabinet and pulls out a really big grey blanket. It looks really heavy. “Here, _________. This is a weighted blanket. I’m sure you’ve heard of them. I like to keep a couple on hand—just in case.” He lays it over you, and almost instantly you feel a smidge calmer. It’s so… warm. Weirdly. “Better?” You groan and he pets your hair again, then fuddles with the IV in your arm. “Snuggle in, sweetheart. It’s all okay. We’re going to make it all better.” With a few sniffles, your eyes close and you succumb to a numb wave that washes over your brain.

 

Your eyes flutter open, pale morning light filtering through unfamiliar semi-sheer curtains. You feel a weight all over your body, and then a little extra warmth on your belly. Ash is curled up on your stomach, sleeping yet and purring in his dreams. You’re covered in the weighted blanket still from last night, and you try to sit up without waking the cat. It doesn’t work. The kitty stirs and stretches across your body, yawning. You groan, feeling achy and fuzzy-headed. You stay laying down. “Well, well! Look who’s awake. How do you feel, __________?”

You groan again, and look over. Doctor Serif is standing next to you, carrying a covered tray. You were hoping last night was just a really bad dream. “Sore… and sleepy.” You curl into the blanket a bit more. This is nice… why didn’t you think to get one for yourself before?

“Understandably so. I can help you with that in a bit. But first…” Magic hands help you sit up. “Let’s get you a nice meal, hm?” He places a lap tray across your legs and uncovers it. It’s quite a nice spread. Cut fresh fruit cup, two fried eggs, two slices of toast, a small bowl of oatmeal, and a nice helping of crispy bacon. There is a small glass of orange juice and a small glass of milk. Your stomach growls. Oh right. You didn’t eat supper last night. You look up at him and smile shyly, meaning to say thanks but not being able to find your tongue to do so with the shock of this kind gesture. He smiles warmly back at you. You see Ash sniffing the food, and push him away. This is not good for cats, you want to say. Doctor Serif beats you to it. “Oh, I didn’t forget about your little furry son,” he snorts, taking a bowl from some floating hands. It smells like the food you make for him. You wonder if he does the same for Princess as you do for Ash. Your cat meows loudly and rubs up against his hand before diving into his food happily.  
    
“I’ve never seen him eat in an unfamiliar place,” you mutter hoarsely.   
  
 “Perhaps he knows just how important being here is for you both?” he muses, then turns his attention back to you. “I will leave you to your breakfast. I’m putting you on bed rest for today. No texting friends, please, and limit messages to family if you will. I do not know how far this act has gone.”

You gulp the lump in your throat hard, and nod. You don’t want to find out what could happen if you touched your phone. “I’ll leave it shut off… but… can I use your phone to call Mom and Dad, please? They’ve probably heard something by now…”

He nods and smiles kindly, reaching into his pocket to give you his phone. “I called them earlier, and let them know that you were stable. It would be good if you talked with them and settled their nerves a little.”

“T-Thank you, Doctor Serif.”

He smiles a little more broadly, the gap in his teeth peeking out from behind his lips. “Under the circumstances… please, call me Aster. I think we’ve reached a mutual familiarity, don’t you?”

You seem stunned as he walks off, shutting the door to give you some privacy.

After a few moments, you decide to dial your Mom’s number. You figure your Dad will be home from work about now, and Mom will have you on speaker. She picks up after the second ring. “Doctor, how is she?”

“H-Hi Mom.”

“Oh, my god ___________! What the fuck happened? Where are you?” she gushes right away. The garble over the phone says she’s definitely on speaker.

“Um… I’m safe. That’s all that I can really tell you right now. I’m okay. It’s just not safe for me to say where I’m at right now.” You dig into the toast and dip it into one of the yolks of the fried eggs.

“Why not? Are you in trouble? What is going on? Does it have something to do with your new work?”

You have to swallow your bite really fast in order to cut her off. Jesus Fucking **Christ**. “Mom, I **can’t** tell you. Just calm your tits, okay? I’m fine, that’s what matters.”   
  
“Dad and I are looking for a flight out there right now for me. I’ll come bail you out but then you’ve got some major explaining.” Dammit all to hell. Why the hell is **that** her first thought? For fuck’s sake, you were a gas station clerk up until seven months ago.

“I’m not in jail Mom. Jeez. Don’t come out here right now, either. It’s not safe for anyone at the moment. There is probably a riot going on in the city.”

“Does that have anything to do with why you’re speaking through a Doctor???? Are you in the **HOSPITAL?** ” Your Mom squeaks.

“No— look, I can’t talk any longer about this. I’ll call you again soon when things calm down. Don’t come out here, okay? It’s not needed and it’s a waste of money when you can’t do anything right now anyway. I love you. Bye.”

Your Mom groans in frustration. “Love you too, __________.” You hang up and resist the urge to throw the phone in anger. Your Mom can piss you off sometimes…. And she always overreacts. Doctor—Aster—comes in after the phone call is over. Strangely on time.

You quickly hand the phone over. “Thanks …A-Aster.”

“That sounded rather frustrating…. Is everything alright, ________?”

“Yeah, Mom is just a bit of a drama queen. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, dear. I understand parents can be rather irritating at times. I’m one myself, if you remember.” You sigh, and look up at him. He’s smiling cheekily as he pockets his phone. “Go on and eat, dear. You’ll have a visitor in a little bit. Seems like this has already made waves at the lab.”

You growl a little. “I know. It seems annoying to have sympathy so soon especially, but I assure you that this visitor will be happy to see you’re okay.”   
You nod and sigh, and with that he leaves you be for a little while. You can’t stand the silence… so you turn on your phone to airplane mode and turn off gps before flipping to your music. You need something to break the deafening lack of sound. You turn it onto a calm playlist. It’s better than nothing. Ash finishes his meal before you do, and curls under your arm to nap again. Seems he’s been stressed too. You finish eating in no time, drinking both the milk and the orange juice. Your full belly makes you sleepy again, but also even more achy.   
Aster comes back again to check on you after a few more songs. “This song is lovely. Is this Emancipator?”

You nod, and smile. “The new album, actually. I like their older stuff more though. It just feels easy.”

“Mm, yes, I have to agree. But this is still nice.” With a smile, he gathers the dishes up and sets them on the stand for a moment. “Are you ready for your next dose of pain reliever?” You nod quickly, the ache starting to get to the level of highly uncomfortable. With a nod of his own, he taps your forehead and you drift back onto your back easily. “Good girl.” You barely feel the prick of the needle in your thigh, but a quick wave of relief rushes over you. “There we go. Just take today to rest. You’re going to be just fine, __________.” He kisses your forehead and picks up the dishes again. “Sleep for a while more. It will help you heal.” You can’t help but feel blush warming your cheeks with that last sweet kiss.   
  
“Thank you… Aster.”

He simply rubs your shoulder gently, smiles, and walks away, closing the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary for those who chose to skip: 
> 
> So, your so-called friend is a loud-mouthed cunt, you lost your nausea meds, and you were tracked down by the waiter in a hate crime. During the attack you find you have a defensive magic ability which knocked the assailant out too, so that's something. You called Doctor Serif and he came to your aid, called the cops, tied the perp up, and carried you and your kitty cat to his home to fix your wounds up best he could. It definitely pays to have a good doctor for your boss.


	7. Life's Like an Oreo...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...Sometimes you just crave that ooey gooey cream center :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DANGEROPS. PRANGENT SEX? WILL IT HURT BABY TOP OF HIS HEAD?

You had a nightmare.

It was dark, and not even the moon was out to let light through the window. Dead silent, like someone put foam in your ears. Something hit your head, and you hit the floor as blood pooled around your face. You woke up screaming. Aster bolted into your room as if it was the first time it had happened. It wasn’t. The normally dark circles under his eyes were even darker, giving proof to how long this had been going on.

He let you scream as long as you needed to, thrash as much as it was safe, and spoke to you just at a murmur even if you couldn’t hear. Finally, after calming down and realizing you were safe, you clung to the Monster desperately for comfort. Aster patted away your tears, rocked you in his arms, and rubbed your back until you could breathe normally again.

When you could speak it was gravelly and uncomfortable, but you protested. You knew he needed sleep, with how tired he looked. He said it was nothing, that all-nighters are normal for him. You insisted that he try to sleep and ignore your cries. He refused. You two were at an impasse for several minutes, until he suggested something absolutely mad.

And you went for it. If it got him to actually maybe get some sleep, you were willing to compromise privacy for making sure your caretaker got well-deserved rest.  
  
Now, you’re in his bed, curled up on one side of the bed but sharing his blankets. He’s big, but the bed easily can accommodate his size and have plenty of room for you yet. It’s… strangely softer and more comfortable than the bed you had. Could just be the warmth, you reason with yourself. But his refreshing and strangely soothing scent is all over his sheets, too. Lavender… and a strange smokey musk. You guess that the lavender is something he adds to his cologne or body wash to train people who get close enough to keep calm around him. It worked with you, didn’t it?   
A little time passes, counting the moments with your breathing and the faint ticking you can hear from the clock out in the living room. You’re finally starting to calm down enough to maybe try again and sleep. Aster is lightly snoring next to you. It’s not at all annoying. In fact, it becomes really cute when you turn over to find the optimum sleeping position and meet his face. His squishy cheek is pressed into the pillow, mouth slack just enough for you to see the gap in his teeth. You’re glad your giggle doesn’t startle him awake. He’s strangely adorable for as alarmingly big as he stands. The peaceful look on his freckled face is contagious, and you find yourself drifting off to sleep. At last you can get some sleep yourself. Thankfully, it seems to last long enough.

 

You feel something slipping up your leg mid-dream. It’s warm and soft. It startles you awake, but you stay as still as you can as your eyes flutter open and focus. Aster is still sound asleep, tucked into the blankets loosely. He is humming in his slumber. You suppose it’s his foot touching you, and your sleepy state is making you imagine things. But you narrow your eyes while you try to comprehend what in the world that could be. It’s still there as you wake up more, and it’s sliding around a little too far up to be his foot. You peek under the covers just as something pokes your butt cheek. You clamp your hand over your mouth to keep from waking up Aster. Holy shit.  
  
“One!” you hiss quietly from behind your palm. “No, bad tentacle!” Defiantly, it slaps your butt in a spanking motion, and continues its journey, back tracking when it realizes you’re wearing pajama shorts. You’re cursing behind your hand trying to keep from waking up the sleeping Monster next to you, but attempting to scoot away from the tentacle and not fall off the bed at the same time. Unfortunately for you, One is determined when it starts on a mission, and continues to pursue you despite your attempts to bat it away. It finds your pussy lips as it slithers further into your shorts, and pokes at them despite you trying to shut your legs to keep it out of your pants. You regret not wearing underwear now. “One, no! Stop it, I already have an egg, you idiot!” It jabs at your cunt as if to protest, and without missing a beat, it slips between your lips and latches itself to your skin while its head plays with your clit. You squeal, clamping your other hand over your first to keep you from shouting and startling its owner awake. Who knows what would happen if Aster were surprised awake and tried to rip One away from you. The one scenario that comes to mind is far from the most pleasant, and you’d rather not deal with an impromptu Brazilian wax by a semi-magical tentacle.

The tentacle expertly toys with your delicate button and makes you squirm in place. Well. This is happening. You figure you might as well get comfortable and enjoy it as much as you can and hope that One isn’t trying to put another egg into you. It grips you more tightly, thinking you are trying to pull away while you adjust your position, and you smack it lightly with one of your hands. “Ow, that hurts, One. Lighten up. I’m just laying down, stop it,” you hiss at the tendril while you settle back in. It lets up again, but seems more persistent, pushing and rolling over your skin and forcing you to get dripping wet. You have to purse your lips to keep from making too much noise, but glancing over it doesn’t even seem like Aster is stirring a little bit. In fact, he looks like he’s having a really good dream. Oh shit, is he thinking about this in his dream? …But you can’t bring yourself to wake him up. He looks peaceful again, like when you first met him.

  
One commands your attention pretty quickly, though, when a ripple of shocking pleasure shoots up your spine. It takes that as its queue to continue, and it releases your skin to wiggle its way down to your entrance to poke the opening with its tip. Fuck. You were always really bad at keeping quiet, even in the lab. You clamp your hand over your mouth just in time for One to open you up, the spade-shaped end easily sliding in and stretching you out deliciously. It’s quick to slip inside and nestle itself as far as it can against your cervix. It curls up to brush against your g-spot as it swells to make sure that its grip is enough to keep inside of you while it does its’ business. Thrust after thrust, the suckers on the underside of the tendril pull and push against your walls and the girth pulses in its need to breed.

Holy _fuck_. You don’t think you’ll get used to _that_ ever. It twists and moves more quickly, making slippery wet sounds as it pounds into you. “O-One!” You mutter behind your hand desperately. “S-Slow down! I don’t—I can’t! I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum!” One is not listening to you. It’s truly its own master as of now. “Fuck, shit, fuck, shit!” you cry out, your pitch getting higher with each profanity. Your toes curl as you clap your other hand over the first to keep it down. None of this seems to be stirring Aster though. He’s either convinced the whole thing is a dream or he’s really that heavy of a sleeper. You’re not sure which scenario is better in all honesty. Glancing over, you see that he is blushing a deep purple through his entire face now, and lightly moaning as he buries his face in his pillow. Eyes are still closed. He’s moving. Is… Is he thrusting his hips???

Oh hell.

One forces another orgasm out of you, and this time you feel something warm and slimy coating your walls and filling what space the tendril has not covered. Oh fuck. It’s not done though. It seems it’s now using that slime to thrust more easily. It wriggles faster and faster, pumping plenty of that warm fluid into you. You have the urge to grab onto something. **Anything.** Your hands fly from your mouth and grab the pillow behind your head. Your hips move with the tentacle in an awkward rhythm, trying to keep pace with its erratic movements. You can’t stop the word vomit now. It pours from your lips, begging One to let up louder and louder.

“One… One! One! **One!** A…A…A-ASTER! ASTER I’M CUMMING!” you shriek, grabbing the pillow and pulling it over your face as you scream loudly to the heavens while your body exits this plane into another reality. The tendril has successfully ripped three orgasms from you in less than thirty minutes.

You hear a gasp. And you sob. One stops, but it remains inside even as you go entirely limp. “Oh my stars… I am so, so very sorry, ___________!” Aster gulps. He pulls the pillow from your face. Considering his tentacle thrashed you, there’s no doubt you look like a crying wreck. The blush flares up, then leaves his face almost instantly. He uses the pillow to cover his lower half as he kneels next to you. You can tell One is stubbornly staying put, wiggling as if making itself comfortable in its new hidey hole. Your. Hidey hole.

You stare at him for a few moments while you try to gain your bearings. Finally, you find your tongue again. “Um…” You know how you **should** respond in a situation like this. But how you **want** to react is an entirely different situation all together. “It’s… It’s okay. It was… Um…” Your face feels like it’s on fire. You want to tell him exactly what you think. Is it wrong? Should you even care at this point? You’ve both probably broken like a thousand ethical guidelines by now. “It was… good.” You throw your hands over your face. ‘Good’ doesn’t even begin to describe how that felt to you. That was like you found Rapture and then dived right into a pool of Angel’s tears.

“O-Oh.” You peek between your fingers at him. He is kneading the pillow at his crotch shyly, still trying to gently pull One out of you. It’s not working. “Ah… Okay then. Um. It seems One has its own agenda right now. I don’t think I can pull it away without hurting you.”   
  
“Uh…. You mean… You can’t command it right now? I thought y-you owned it?”   
  
“Y-Yes, I do but… sometimes when something in my SOUL triggers One, until my magic depletes itself. It **is** semi-sentient, after all. Um… Uh… I am truly sorry, ___________.” His blush is back, bleeding down into his neck now.

So wait. Does that mean… he has feelings for you? What… why… how? You have so many questions. But really, it seems stupid to question that when his mating tentacle is stubbornly lodged inside your cunt. “What… should we do?” You idiot. You know exactly what needs to be done. Stupid question.

“Well… Um. We have to let this run its course. I am so sorry.”

Your turn to become as hot as a bonfire. You’re flushed from head to toe laying in the bed on your back, staring at the ceiling as you think about this. “H-How long do you think this will take? Um.. not that I have anywhere to be or anything. It’s just One’s already forced three orgasms out of me. I don’t want it to hurt the egg….”   
“Oh, it won’t,” He quips in his professional tone. Aster realizes this and grips the pillow in front of him some more nervously. “Uh, right. No, it won’t hurt the egg.” He looks like he’s cursing himself a little bit right now. Awkward.   
“So….”  
“A-As for how long this could take, I hate to say it but because I’ve been losing sleep I’ve been taking magic supplements to make up for the lack of energy. So… It might be a while.”

Shit. “Well… I guess we don’t really have a choice. C-Can you tell me something though?”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Do you know why this is happening?”

His face goes blank. “Uhhhhhhhh….” Aster pauses for a moment. “Well, I mean, I can guess it’s because I do find you attractive.”

Duh. That was an obvious answer. You guess that it was an obvious question though. You smirk. “I guess if it helps, I find you attractive, too.”

There’s a beat of silence between you two. And he snorts and cracks a smile. His giggle is a little tense with embarrassment. But he seems relieved. You know he was thinking this could have gone so badly. But you think he forgot the fact that you had to practically be held down when he implanted the egg inside of you. You giggle with him and reach to tug the pillow from him. It seems silly since you’re already… ‘intimate.’ Oh fucking well. When you pull the pillow away, you see a black gooey stain on his pajama pants. You recoil in shock, not so much disgust. “What… is that?”

His blush is bright again and he tries to take the pillow back to cover up the mess. “Oh. That? That is… That is my er… e-ejaculate.” He coughs to clear his throat, clearly embarrassed by the situation he’s in now.

“It’s **black**?”   
“Yes. Ah, it’s because I’m a Lich, dear, among other reasons.” He shifts, still kneeling next to you and sitting on his feet.   
One begins to wriggle again, and with renewed vigor. You squeal a little, but are still focused more on Aster. Alright, might as well make the best of a stuck situation, right? You take the pillow from Aster again and move to tug down on his waistband. One seems fine with you moving for now. Aster, however, is startled once more by your actions.

“What are you doing?” He is gripping his waistband tightly to his body, resisting your advance until he tries to understand what you’re up to.  
“Well **I’m** not just gonna lay here with you only watching knowing how you feel about me now. Especially because your mating tentacle kind of has us both stuck here.” You tug again, and he reluctantly helps you take off his pajama pants. A black tentacle unfurls and slowly curls into a tantalizing girth ready for pleasuring. It is smooth, unlike one, with no little suckers to make sure it stays in place, and it is smeared in his cum. Against the onyx-black skin of his tendril, it looks rather aesthetically pleasing, like the glazing of a cake. You wonder absently if it tastes as good as it looks.

You intend to find out.

Tugging on his hand to get him to lay down, you wait until he gets the hint and gets comfortable before adjusting yourself so you can easily access his cock. “Um… ___________? A-Are you sure? You don’t have to do this.”   
  
“But I want to. We might as well enjoy this, yeah?”

“I suppose…” Before he can protest any further, you duck down to take in the tip of the tentacle dick into your mouth. You pause for just a moment in surprise. His ‘essence’ tastes like cookies n’ crème chocolate bars. What the hell. Something about it though makes you want to continue, and lick him clean. Aster lets out a stifled moan, hands flinging up to his face to hide his expression. With the extra sensation coming from its owner, One pounds into you and massages your insides with its suckers. You moan against his cock while sucking on it, trembling a little from the stimulation between your legs. You feel the tentacle in your mouth throbbing in need, and Aster shuddering under you as shocks of pleasure course through both of you. He writhes and twitches as your touches become hurried to match One’s pace with you. His moans become whines and he’s grabbing at the sheets and pillows around him. He settles on rubbing your shoulder, clearly trying to respect you by **not** shoving your face further onto the girthy tendril. You swirl your tongue around the strange tip in thanks before taking it in as far as you can. Aster keens as you relax enough to let the tendril slide down into your throat. One is wriggling inside of you. You can tell you’re both so close to release. Your eyes flutter as the oncoming orgasm rips through you and squeezes around One tightly. Aster is next, and cries out as his cum fills your mouth. It slips easily down your throat, as you’re unwilling to make more of a mess and honestly, it doesn’t really taste all that bad. One is still writhing inside of you. It’s getting pretty erratic now. You wonder if it’s starting to get tired.

After a few moments, Aster relaxes again and the hand that was on your shoulder reaches up to pet your hair. “Ah… You… drank that?”

You bite your bottom lip. “Y-yeah… You… don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all. I ah… just wasn’t expecting that.” You lean your head into his hand while he strokes your hair. “Are you feeling alright, darling?”   
  
You think about it for a moment. You’re not feeling raw yet, so that’s good. “I’m okay I think.”   
  
“I think One is beginning to get tired, but it may take a little while longer.”   
  
“Alllllrighty then. Um. What now?”  
  
Aster seems to think for a moment. “May I try something?” You blink, but nod and give him permission to carry out whatever it is he wants to do. He pulls you up from between his legs and wraps his arm around you while he adjusts. One is gripping you, but not enough to hurt while you’re adjusting. Aster curls around you and leans in to kiss you sweetly. It takes you by surprise at first, especially considering you just sucked on his tentacle dick for a bit, but you kiss him back easily after the initial surprise wears off. One’s thrusts are slow and powerful, shocking your body with pleasure as it strikes into you. You whimper and moan against his mouth, and his tongue sneaks in to swipe against yours hungrily. He breaks away for a moment to check with you. “Is… that satisfactory?”

You smirk. “I dunno. I might need to try it again~” You pull him closer to you again and kiss him harder. He hums and laughs through the kiss, returning it happily. You two suck face for a while as One does its’ thing between your legs, and it moves just right to send a shock wave of another orgasm through your body. You break away just as you reach another peak, and Aster clutches you close to him, wrapping his arms around you to pin you to his body. He whispers into your ear, petting your hair as you moan through your climax.

“Good girl, that’s right. Let it out. It feels so nice, doesn’t it?” Aster mutters, his cheek pressed against yours as you knead at his chest. One is drawing out this orgasm from you as much as it can. You feel yourself trembling now, and your face is aflame with blush. Tears blur your vision as you’re getting overwhelmed by the sensation. One swells as Aster encourages your moans. You clutch onto him, panting desperately while you’re being thrashed. The tendril swells more, and then suddenly releases inside of you. It’s too much, and after filling you up the rest drips out and makes a mess on your thighs and the sheets.   
  
One finally lets go as Aster kisses your cheek while you sob from the overstimulation, and it disappears finally. After a few moments, you finally manage to calm yourself a little bit. Aster scoots out of the bed and scoops you up to carry you off somewhere. You’re in his bathroom. It’s gorgeous from what you can tell through your still-blurry eyes. You hear the hiss of water flowing, and smell a pleasant floral soap. “Let’s clean you up a bit, hm?” He mutters warmly, taking his time with wiping the essence from your legs. Aster sets you in the bath after making sure you’re clean of most of the gunk, and you can’t help but sink in. There are Jacuzzi jets in this massive spa of a tub, and your back and legs are being lightly massaged by a few of them. This is very nice. You hear Aster move to leave, but you grab him by the hand, accidentally grazing the hole in his palm. It makes you both shudder.

“Oops, sorry. Um…”   
  
“What is it, _______?”

“Could you… maybe stay with me? Please?” It feels wrong to use his bathroom like this without him being right here. “Maybe… maybe you could join me?”

“You want me to join you in there?” Aster parrots in shock. He blinks, and then softens to a smile. “Of course, ________. I would love to.”   
  
He climbs in and gets comfortable next to you, helping you bathe and even shampooing your hair for you. That’s a treatment you really weren’t expecting. But it is nice.

A very nice reprieve indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES. FINALLY. LEGIT SMUT.
> 
> Aster, your feelings are showing.


	8. What's a Henway?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I dunno, about 2 pounds?
> 
> Egg-laying season is upon you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a very graphic scene of giving birth in this chapter. To be honest, that's pretty much what this chapter is, so you can skip it. I don't think it needs much of a recap, it's pretty much just birth and recovery here. Not that I wouldn't recommend reading the chapter if you *don't* mind reading that sorta thing. 
> 
> Whatever floats your goat.

From that night on, you stay by Aster’s side as much as possible. He proposed that you could stay at his home on a more permanent level. He said you could think about it for as long as you needed, but it really didn’t take that long for you to decide. With your apartment location now known to the general public, it wasn’t exactly the safest place for you or your fur baby anymore. Not that you’d want to return to that place anyway, as nice as it was. Aster’s place was quiet, safe, and comfortable. It took weeks for you to stop having nightmares so bad that you woke up from them, and you expect that going back to your apartment could just make them come back. Staying with Aster is probably the best option for that issue… but you’re slowly starting to realize that his charm pulled you in. 

After that first night in his bed, he has been much more relaxed with you. Little touches here, sitting just a little closer to you when you took breaks at the lab, practically cuddling when you both return to his home at the end of the work day. Even his air is less scientific and more chill at the lab. You think his other employees noticed. Doctor Baxter **definitely** noticed when he stopped by Aster’s home for a more private treatment.

Another month went by, and you decided to terminate your contract at the labs to exchange it for an informal one… a relationship with your old boss. But the egg inside of you was still waiting to be—born? He told you as you signed the release of contract forms that it would happen the following Monday. The parents would be there to take the child home that very night after the hatching. That made you squirm a little with how he worded it. It was just so sterile sounding. He once again assured you that the process isn’t as cold as what it sounds. You trusted him.

And you still do.

The last weekend of the month was filled with watching as your new friends come together and help move your things in and store or sell what you didn’t need anymore. Aster wouldn’t let you lift a damn thing, only hold Ash to keep him from going crazy while everyone was moving around. Both Papyrus and Sans were very excited about this prospect…. And Papyrus even tried to call you “Mother.” You told him your name would be just fine, making it clear you were a little uncomfortable with that at the moment. Ash settled in very quickly after everything was arranged, and he had his own little places to hide in the guest bedroom.

Finally—Monday, the first.

The drive with Aster in the early morning was sleepy for you. And hungry. He told you the night before you’d have to fast just in case, and you did so with a grumble. He promises to feed you after everything is in order, that he’ll take you wherever you’ll want to go to make up for what you missed out on. You take a nap in the car to distract you from whatever awaits you in the lab. He parks as close as he can to the employee door, and helps you out of the car gingerly. “Take it easy now. There is no need to rush. We’ve all the time in the world, _________.” He croons, leading you to the elevator inside. You lean on him when the doors close to the lift, and he wraps a comforting arm around you. You make it to the basement level, still not speaking, and slightly trembling because of your nerves. It’s becoming a serious reality now—you’re about to give birth in one way or another. Even if the birth isn’t a ‘normal’ one, it’s still freaking you the fuck out. You can almost hear your heartbeat with how hard your chest is pounding. Aster rubs soothing circles on your back as he walks you down the familiar hall. He does not lead you to the usual metal door though. He stops at the recovery door instead. Inside, there is an area curtained off from the rest, even though the room is empty. You assume that he had an assistant come in and prepare the room last night. Inside, the bed is prepared and laid out in just a way that makes you uneasy. There is a giant absorbent pad laying on the white-sheet mattress, and plenty of pillows to adjust your position where needed. And then there is a large metal cart full of equipment, and an IV pole. You resist shrinking back.

“W-Why here, Aster?”

“There is nothing in the lab we need for this. This will be much more comfortable than a table, that I can assure you. The other Incubators in the past would always have to be moved to a bed anyway. I figured this would take out a step. Not to worry, _________. Contract or not, pain will be minimal, trivial even. I will do all I can to help make this go as quickly as possible so we can begin healing you. Will you dress in the gown laid out for you, sweetie?” He pets your hair to comfort you as you step forward. “I’ll be right outside the curtain if you need anything before we start.”

You nod and wait for him to leave, then shakily you slide off you clothes and set them on the bedside table. The gown is thin… but familiar now. You call out for him and wait next to the bed. You’re holding your belly… almost protectively. You’re utterly scared shitless now. It’s about to happen. Holy shit it’s gonna happen. What will it feel like? You did only the bare minimum in training in the past few weeks and you’re terrified. Will something go wrong? Will he have to do an emergency c-section? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Shit. Goddamn it.

“_________? Take it easy, darling. Breathe deep, slow and deep. Here, sit down on the bed, let’s just breathe. Don’t force this. We have as much time as you need. Easy breaths. In, two, three, four, five…hold. And out, four, three, two, one. There we go. Again.” You do as you’re told, and slowly you start to relax. “That’s better.” He gloves up quickly, and turns to the machines to get those ready.   
“I’m scared, Aster. I don’t want to do this.” 

“I know, I know little one. But we must finish this. It won’t be as bad as your thinking, I can assure you. I’ll be here with you the entire time, guiding you, easing your tension, your pain, your nerves. The  first one is always the hardest to get through. But after this, if you would like to continue this path, you will find the process much easier. The choice is completely yours, though, my dear. Take it nice and easy.” He pats your tears dry and guides you to lay back in the bed, in the mountain of pillows. He fluffs the ones around your head and moves your body until it’s in a good, comfortable position. Everything is blurring like it’s in fast-forward, but you’re stuck in slow motion. You feel paralyzed by your nerves, despite how strangely cozy you feel. Aster commands your attention gingerly, asking you to look at him. Patting your tears away, he taps your forehead like he used to. You settle little by little. Secretly you’re very thankful for the conditioning he imposed on you. It’s a merciful life raft in a turbulent sea.

You feel a poke in your arm. You don’t look until you’re sure he’s finished, and discover he’s set up a drip already of something. He’s also injecting something into the port—the drops are glowing a strange hue of green and blue. The first drop hits your bloodstream and a shudder of sedation hits you, paired with a dull cramp in your lower half.

“What.. the fuck,” you whine, writhing a little. Your vision is a little blurry from the drug.  

“Deep breath, __________. It’s okay. I just induced contractions in you. You’ll feel a dull ache, but nothing more I promise.” He lays a hand over your distended belly, then nods. The Doctor re-positions your legs to a more appropriate angle and reassuringly rubs your knee. “The contractions will come at a faster rate than an average human birth. You should be ready to push in the next few minutes.” All you can do is whine in protest.

Minutes pass, and you feel your stomach cramping more and more. He is rubbing your belly in circles, hushing you wordlessly and trying to comfort you. The pain remains dull, but it’s just enough to be slightly uncomfortable. The egg feels like it’s shifting, and you manage to mutter out a complaint. He assures you that it’s normal, that it’s adjusting so it may be expelled in the most efficient manner. You feel a sharp pressure, as it is beginning to push against your cervix now, and you cry out with agony and panic. “It hurts, Aster, it **hurts** please make it stop!” You sob, pushing yourself up with your elbows. Aster pushes you back to the bed and strokes your hair. He’s quick to give you a little more medicine, which quickly alleviates the worst of it, then instructs you to breathe with him. You follow his lead, and it seems to help push things along—for lack of a better term.

An hour goes by, but it feels like an eternity. “Good, we’re nearly there, sweetie. Keep going, you’re doing wonderfully.” He’s patting your sweat away with a cool sponge, magic hands attending to the monitors, adjusting the medicine as needed, and giving you extra support in your body and legs. You’re trembling, the pushing straining every muscle in your frame. You can’t help it—you’re crying pathetically. You see blotches of blood between your legs when you are curling up to push and it nauseates you. You smell the iodine from the sterile machines and your skin, and the blood and whatever else is leaking from you currently and you just want to throw up. Tears stream down your face in pain, in frustration, and fear. How the hell will you survive this?! Aster is still by your side, paying attention to every detail and encouraging you little by little. This is horrible, you think. Why in hell would anyone want to give birth for fuck’s sake? This is gross, it’s painful, and you just want to stab your stomach to make it stop.

“One more big push for me, __________. You can do this, come on!” Aster coaxes as he leans down to reach between your legs with a towel. With a howl, you push as hard as you can, and the egg comes sliding out in a placenta of slime which slides off almost immediately onto the absorbent pad. You sob hysterically as you flop back into the pillows and the magic hands take the egg to set it aside. Aster ungloves and quickly gives you another dose of pain medicine, this one much stronger than the last. You’re numb from head to toe, fuzzy-headed but awake yet. He pets your hair, presses a cold sponge to your face, and showers you with praise as the hands clean you up and lay your legs in a clean pillow. “Very well done, little one. You did so well. It’s all over now. Deep breaths. There we go.” With a warm kiss to your forehead, he holds your hand until you’re finally calmed down enough. “Good girl. All done, all done. We’re going to heal now, that’s all. You won’t have to do another thing for quite a while.”

You dry heave a little, the stress wearing off and making your body do weird things now. Your head keeps going to the smell and sight of what was just between your legs. He’s quick to grab a trashcan for you, which you upchuck bile into. He remains by your side, not swayed by your reaction in the slightest. He rubs your back soothingly until you stop, holding your hair back to keep it from getting in the can. Your body trembles, and he has you lay back and he tucks you into the blankets. “It’s shocking, I know. This was very unnerving. It’s alright to feel this way, __________. This is all over though. All we need to do is focus on you and help you get back to normal. This happened very, very fast. You did so well. Better than expected, actually. Just rest, darling. It will be all okay. That’s it. Breathe deep breaths, calm your mind. Good girl. Good girl.”

You cry pathetically, wishing you had something to cuddle and bury your face in. It seems like Aster is way ahead of you, and he pulls up a large stuffie for you to hold from the cart. It’s a big panda with a blue polka dot scarf. You take it gratefully and sob into its fuzz. Aster sits on the edge of the bed to give you attention as the magic hands tend to the egg. He coos wordlessly, trying his best to calm you in every way possible.

The hands push the cart away with the egg, disappearing forever now. He covers up your lower body and tucks you in a little more. Aster’s hand glows, and he lifts up your gown to place his hand directly over your belly. A buzzing, pulsing warmth washes over your torso on top of the pain medicine he gave you earlier. Your lower half goes completely limp in the pillows and your sobbing quiets a little, but you keep your face buried in the teddy. You guess that he’s starting to heal you. Your guess is confirmed when he asks you to call your soul. You do so reluctantly, but remain hidden behind the fuzz. Your whole being lightly vibrates as a wave of magic washes all through your body. “Good, good… It seems that the egg did not weaken your SOUL. That’s good.” You inhale and squeeze the bear a little more, then just let the feeling of the healing distract you from what you just did. “Let’s talk about this a little bit, __________. Okay? I know it scared you.” You feel him sit on the bed at your knees, and your SOUL retracts back into your body. But… you don’t want to talk about it. You just want to forget. You know the nightmares will come tonight… can’t you just forget it for a minute, even? “Talk it through, sweetheart. It will help, believe me. What is terrifying you about this experience, hm?”

“T-The blood and watching it and just… everything!” You toss the bear to the side of you and lunge forward at Aster rambling hysterically, telling him things again and again and begging him. You want him to hold you. You never wanted kids like that and that was horrific for you… You couldn’t even watch those stupid pregnancy shows your mom loved to watch so much. Why did you think this was a good idea? You plead with him to not go through that again, that you can’t do it again.

“Okay… Alright… Shh, easy, one thing at a time. You don’t have to do this again. I am so proud of you for doing this for Monsters. It doesn’t matter if this is the only time. You did it, and that is more than most people can boast. Would it help to remind you won’t suffer any permanent damage from this? That you will feel the same before the egg?”

You feel a wave of warm magic down your spine as Aster runs his thumb down the back of your neck. Thinking about it, you nod. It does help a little. It wasn’t like a normal pregnancy. You are going to recover fully without anything permanent happening. You curl into his touch, and loosen your grip on his shirt. Aster sighs and smiles, looking down at you as you calm a little. Magic hands clean up the sheets and change everything out, eradicating the smell and the sight of what conspired. You are laid in the fresh pillows and blankets, and tucked into them. You whine in protest, but Aster seems insistent so you stop yourself from fighting it. “We are going to stay here for just a few hours—just to make sure you’re okay. Then we’ll go home and relax. I will make you something tasty to eat, and some tea to go with it. You’ll be on bed rest for a couple of days, but don’t worry. I’ll be with you to keep an eye on you.”

You nod. There’s not much you can do. Not that you want to do anything right now. You’re absolutely exhausted. Sleep seems so much better than food right now. But you know by the time you and he get home you’ll be starving. “Can I sleep, Aster? Please?” Your voice sounds rough and pathetic right now… probably from all the crying.

“Of course, dear. Rest. I will keep healing you. When you wake, we will be home, and you will be in a more comfortable bed.”   
“Thank you…” you mutter as you feel your eyes close heavily. You’re so relieved, all you can think of is sleep right now. Those drugs are something.

Your sleep is mercifully dreamless. And tingly. You’re slightly aware of Aster’s magic doing its’ thing on your body despite how deep you are right now. When you open you’re eyes again, you’re exactly where Aster said you’d be. And you smell food. Really tasty food. Your stomach growls loudly. You grab it, and it startles you. You’ve become accustomed to a bulgy belly. It’s a weird feeling. Not quite missing it, but it’s that weird surreal feeling like getting a tattoo and realizing you forgot about it when you look in a mirror later on. You’re rubbing your belly when Aster comes into the bedroom with a tray of food. He gives you a strange look. It’s something between sympathy and curiosity.

“Are you alright, _________?”

“Huh? Oh… um… yes? It’s just weird.”

“Ah, yes. It’s much like the phantom limb syndrome, hm? Not to worry, love. It’s a common experience with Incubators.” He commands some hands to help you sit up while he sets the bed tray across your lap. It’s a hearty stew with potatoes, carrots, and chunks of roast beef, accompanied with a couple rolls that look homemade, and a plate of cut peaches. “There we are, little one. I hope this is alright. I figured you might want something more filling than eggs and toast.”   
“This looks and smells amazing, Aster. Thank you.”

“Any time, _________. There is plenty more out in the kitchen. I’m keeping it hot in case you would like more after you finish this.” He kisses your head and smiles. “I will be back to give you another healing treatment, alright? I have just a few things to follow up on.”

You nod and smile shyly. He’s probably going to check on the… er… monster child and their new parents? He winks, then walks off and closes the door behind him.

Well… all of this feels strange. But not unwelcome, at least. Just gonna take some time to get used to, right? It’s nice that he doesn’t seem to feel any different about you. It’s a relief in all honesty. You eat up, eager for his return so you two can cuddle a little bit. You won’t admit it, but you might be a bit addicted to being so close to him. Not that he’d mind, anyway. He seems to prefer to cuddle over sitting across from each other sitting anywhere else anyhow. Aster is ideal for you, the more you think about it. He’s sweet, kind, thoughtful… handsome in a strange, slightly non-conventional manner. It gets you thinking a little, back to when he hired you. He said he was looking for something specific. You now wonder what that could be, considering that now you and he are dating. Was he looking for a potential partner all along, using the contract as a mask? You shake your head from that thought. That would be kinda weird. But you can’t help but wonder what exactly his motives were on hiring you, despite what the contract said.   
  
The door opens, startling you a little. Aster is standing in the door, staring at you with his usual goofy grin. “Everything alright?”

“Uh. Yeah. Sorry.”   
  
“For what, ________?” He asks curiously, his smile softening with your awkward behaviour.

“Um. Dunno. Being out of it, I guess?” You smile back at him reassuringly. You don’t want him to think you are upset. Cause you’re not. Just thinking too hard about things.   
  
“Oh, it’s quite alright. No need to apologise. You are still recovering. It’s completely normal,” He bubbles, walking in and setting the tray aside to sit next to you on the bed. “Let’s get your next healing treatment out of the way, hm?” He seems to believe you as he rubs his hands together as magic collects in his hole-punched palms. You make an absent mental note to inquire about those sometime.


	9. AfterOvi Drabble 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months later, you had become rather ill. You chalked it up to running around non-stop trying to prepare for the holidays. Aster?? ... Mm, not so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fair warning, this is a little drabble with some more personal attention, and medical examination. Drugging, and a scalpel is involved. Aster is painted in a slightly darker light in this one. He's not all marshmallows and rainbows, I'm afraid :)

Aster invited you to join him for a cup of tea. You agreed, relieved that you **finally** both had the day off. It had been a while since you’d just taken it easy with him, enjoying the snowy view out of the window of his little breakfast nook and just existing together. It was getting deep into winter, and getting to see each other more often was difficult while trying to make extra time for any commute either of you may have had to make.  
  
Recently that had been a lot of time, because unfortunately your cat had tried to eat something it shouldn’t have **again**. It didn’t help you haven’t been feeling your best and you weren’t sure exactly why. Aster had insisted on tests, but you refused on grounds that it was probably just a flu bug that was sticking around for a bit longer than normal. You’d taken to drinking and eating lots of ginger-infused foods and drinks to at least curb the nausea you’d been experiencing. It helped a little.  
The tea you were drinking with him was good. It warmed you right down to your core, and grounded you to the moment. You leaned into him after a couple of sips. You were starting to feel pretty drowsy. Probably from the non-stop running you’d both had to do in the past week. You took a couple more sips. You had a hard time holding the cup up to your lips after the fifth time. Weak, you were weak. Exhausted. Aster didn’t seem to worry at all, so maybe he figured you were just tired from the ‘unknown’ illness and running around? You struggled to lift the cup, pulling it just an inch off the table before setting it down again. He slid the cup away from you and looked down at you with a clinical glint in his good eye. You remember that glint… that’s the look he’d give you when you first started at the lab. Unsettling.

“W-what did you…”

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s just a mild tranquilizer. You can still move, and walk. It will just take a bit of effort and perhaps a bit of help,” he soothes. “It was the only way to get you to comply, and it will wear off in about fifteen minutes. Just enough time to bring you down to my office. You have been sick for weeks. It’s time I looked at you.” You whined. You hated medical examinations, even when it was Aster performing them. He scooted his chair back, careful to prop you up, and helped you out of your seat. “Come along.” You couldn’t believe he drugged you. But you also could. He let you do most of your own walking as he led you to the stairs down to his private lab-slash-office. At the top, he picked you up so you wouldn’t fall down the flight. You whimpered. He hushed you gently, and set you down at the bottom of the stairs to lead you over to the table.  
  
“Why, Aster?” You whined.  
  
“I care about you. You are ill, it is my duty as your boyfriend to care for you in any way I can. This is in my ability.” With a peck on the top of the head, he instructed you to dress down into a gown he handed you, and he offered to help you up onto the table if you felt weak yet. You stubbornly refused  
the gown, and refused to get up on the table. He couldn’t force you… right?  
  
He shrugged, shook his head, and began examining you anyway. Aster sat close to you, not caging you between his legs. Just close enough to press you into the side of the table a bit, which encouraged you to lean on it at least. His touches remained warm, but calculated just right to get you to listen to him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to resist him. “Relax your wrist, I’ll hold it for you,” he muttered while checking your pulse. “Ease your shoulders, I will not hurt you.” He was counting your breaths. “Say _ah_.” Thermometer under your tongue. You resisted for a bit, until he brushed under your chin to get you to look at him. You winced with the light he shined in your eyes. He frowned. You had a fever, your skin was clammy, and you were resisting.  
  
“Relax, darling. Undress and sit on the table. Please.”  
  
You shook your head.  
  
He pet your hair. You melted a little.  
  
“Please,” he implored again.  
  
You whined. Not a no. But you were still so shy about being naked in the open… even in a gown.  
  
“Please,” he whispered, bending to be nearer to your ear.  
  
You finally complied, shakily removing your clothes in front of him and setting them aside, shirt first.  
  
He stopped you, realizing it may not have had to go farther than your shirt. “How long have you had that?” Feeling too bare, self-conscious about your slightly-now larger chubby frame, you try to wrap your arms around your body best you can to hide away.  
  
“What?”  
  
“That mass on your shoulder.”  
  
You looked… embarrassed. You two hadn’t had entirely naked sex in months after the egg had been… delivered, so he hadn’t noticed it. It was large, and flat, pitch black, and roughly round. About the size of half-dollar. “Um. It grew right after the… extraction?”

He bit his bottom lip. He knew what was causing the illness. “You need to lay on your belly, darling.”  
  
You refused again. “Please. I need to take that off of you. It’s making you very sick.”  
  
You shook your head. You knew that whatever he would do would hurt.  
  
“Please.”  
  
You moved to put your shirt back on, tearing up.  
  
He stopped you. “Very well… If you will not lay on the table, at least brace yourself on it?”  
  
You whined. It was going to hurt. He was going to have to cut you probably. That will hurt later.  
  
“Give this a chance, darling. Hm?” He petted your hair again, his thumb rubbed against your cheek a moment. You winced. But then you melted again, closing your eyes. His touch feels so good. It was the best thing you think you’d felt in ages. You moaned, but finally, you complied. You watched as he gloved up and pulled a scalpel from his supplies in the cabinet next to him. You tried to back away, but you were stuck. “Easy,” he crooned. “This is so sharp you won’t feel a thing. I promise.”  
You were quick to turn and brace against the table. You almost needed to you were so scared. You felt a gloved hand on your good shoulder, kneading into your muscles. Warmth again seeped into your body. “Hush, little one,” Aster soothed. “and relax.” After a few moments of massaging, you were back to breathing normally. Almost like you forgot what he held in his hand. “Now just hold very still,  
and it will all be over soon.”  
  
You waited and waited. Whimpering nervously, you held on for that moment when the scalpel would break your skin and set fire to your nerves. Three minutes passed by, you felt his hand moving along the line of the growth. But no pain. You heard some sizzling, and a bit of a pull on your skin, but nothing. At the moment.  
  
“And a little pinch…” he sighed, just before you felt a deep poke in your shoulder blade. A needle.  
  
“Good girl. All done.” He kissed the back of your head, and you heard glass clinking. You turned around cautiously, surprise was evident in your expression. He was capping a small jar filled with deep black liquid. It made you sick to look at it. “Void Matter,” he explained simply, reading the question on your face. He turned to look at you. “Let’s go cuddle now. You need rest to recover your  
energy.”  
  
You moved to put your shirt back on. “Ah, let’s wait a while for that. The wound needs time to close.” He lead you up and out of his lab, leaving everything else behind.  
  
You two then spooned in bed, you the Little Spoon, of course.

 


End file.
